A/N: This is an explicit PWP one-shot. Be forewarned.
Emma's boots hit the pavement with more force than necessary as she storms out of the station, her jaw tight and fists clenched as she flees – because that's what she's really doing, running – but it's not just the desperate need to get away driving her forward, it's the unshakable certainty that no matter how far she runs, she can't really ever get away from any of it.
She can just make out the sound of the door opening behind her, the plea of her name cutting through the cool air, but she's in no mood, her hand flying up in what she hopes is a clear dismissal. Thankfully, David seems to get the message as she doesn't hear him following her through the parking lot.
Good.
She's not in the mood to be chased, and she's definitely not in the mood for lectures about hope and duty, about doing what's right. She just wants to be left alone – just for a little while. She needs space from the weight of everyone's eyes pressing down on her. Some days it's all too much, and despite loving Henry more than anything in the world, she thinks back to how simple everything had been before she made that wish on a cupcake – before she became the Savior.
Fuck.
She hates that word.
Savior.
She never asked for it – evil queens and sleeping curses, magic and Neverland and fucking Pan. She still has nightmares about that, about how Henry just believed so deeply that he handed his heart over to that damned demon like his life didn't matter.
And even though she's seen it all, most days she still has trouble believing in any of it. How can they not see that? Why do they all keep lining up in front of her for their happy endings, dropping their problems at her feet and expecting her to just fix everything?
What about her happy ending? When is she allowed the time to think about that, to figure out what she wants?
Her frantic pace had calmed over the last few minutes, and as her footsteps slow, she finds herself staring at a familiar sight, because of course this was the place she ran. Honestly, she's not even surprised anymore, and she doesn't question it when her feet lead her up the gangplank and onto the silent deck of Hook's ship.
She knows why she's here, even if she can't admit it yet – not aloud where every word is weighed and judged by everyone around her, balanced on some hopeless scale of things she is and isn't supposed to want as the Savior.
She deftly unlatches the door to his cabin and moves down the ladder, not surprised in the least when he's at her back before she can clear the last step, his lips ghosting over her ear and smiling against her neck, the scratch of his stubble sending a shiver of longing through her body. The breath she draws in washes her in the scent that she craves more than she'd like to admit, leather and sea and the metallic tang of steel, desire throbbing between her thighs.
"What a lovely surprise, Swan," he purrs against her neck, his hand running along the sleeve of her jacket so he can tangle his fingers among hers, his hook pulling her hips more firmly against his own. "To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of this visit?"
"I just..." Her words refuse to come smoothly, they never do around him, all semblance of confidence gone, so instead she just turns into him, pushing him backwards with far more roughness than she actually feels, but no less than she needs, already chasing after him. "Everyone is just...this whole town...I need to forget it for a while, okay?"
I just need to forget that I'm anything other than me...
His leather jacket hits the floor, her hands tracing the firm muscles of his arms as he stands before her. She watches him from lidded eyes, seeing all of those things he doesn't try to hide, even if he knows better than to say them, but then he opens his mouth and she panics, lunging upward and begging him to be silent with a hungry kiss, his hand wrapping in her hair as they find their rhythm together.
She doesn't want his soft words and understanding right now, his promises to give her everything she needs.
She knows that he sees her like no one else does, she knows that there's nothing he wouldn't do for her, but to hear those words right now – in this moment where everything else feels like a goddamn anchor – it would just make them into one more thing dropped at her feet that terrifies her, that she doesn't know what to do with or how to respond to, and she won't do that to him.
She feels the thump of his body hitting the table behind them, his arm moving to hold her tighter, his hook circling her back as his tongue sweeps along her own, tasting her. After what seems like an eternity he pulls back, watching her carefully from those blue eyes she thinks of more than seems reasonable, but not like she wants, not like a predator who's cornered something helpless and is deciding the best way to devour it.
She meets his gaze, knowing she can't hide from him, not like this, and she doesn't want to, so instead she lets him see everything, begs him silently to understand what she needs without needing to say it aloud – make me forget, Hook. Take it all away. Take me to a place where it's just the two of us...just Killian, just Emma.
Like always, she's an open book to him, and a shiver of anticipation pulses between her legs as his eyes change, his entire stance shifting just slightly as his brow arches and the tip of his tongue wets his lip while he studies her, his chest rising slowly beneath her hand.
She knows better than to rush him despite the need stirring inside of her, and barely a heartbeat passes before he's spinning them about, the solid wood of the table digging into her thighs as he bends her over its edge and molds his body against hers in a way that is everything and yet not enough.
"It seems you've come in search of a pirate, lass."
His words are a balm against her heated flesh as he brushes her curls to the side and drags his lips down the curve of her neck, pausing to suck against where her pulse beats loudly. His teeth bite into her just on the edge of too much, just where she needs it, the mark he leaves stinging as he runs his tongue over it.
"Tell me, Swan, when you stole aboard my ship, is this what you wanted, to be taken like a common whore bent over the table?"
A wavering moan slips from her lips as he removes her hands from the table and places them on her lower back, his hook and hand moving to slowly drag her jacket down her shoulders until the stiff leather is left bunched around her wrists, and though it's not the same as her cuffs, she feels no less at his mercy.
"Or did you have something more intimate in mind, perhaps against the ladder where I can savor the taste of my cock in your mouth as I fuck you, swallow all of those delectable noises you make?"
She shivers as his fingers dust along her stomach before slipping up to her breast, his hook suddenly appearing in front of her against the table, the cold steel of its curve pressing against her lips.
"Open your mouth for me, darling," he purrs, his tone heavy with barely restrained need, and she does, licking her lips and wrapping them around his hook, the point of it just barely brushing her ear as he pulls it far enough back that her mouth throbs beneath the pressure of her teeth and the cold metal, a shock of pleasure ripping through her core.
"That's a good girl," he whispers against her, chuckling as the heat of his hand palming her breast makes her shudder beneath him, noises slipping around where he's gagged her with his hook. He ruts himself against her backside as she pants beneath him, hips swiveling as she rubs her thighs together, desperate to be touched, to feel him.
"You're a filthy little thing, aren't you? All trussed up and helpless...I haven't even touched you where you want it most, but I'd wager you're bloody dripping just from the thought of my cock filling up your tight little quim. Isn't that right, Swan?"
She whimpers, her saliva pooling in her mouth and dripping from the corners of her lips as his fingers scrape teasingly across her nipple, pinching it roughly and sending another jolt of yearning through her center, her legs shaking.
"I asked you a question, darling," he drawls, his voice colder as he removes his hand from beneath her sweater, grazing instead along the edge of her jeans until he finds the button and deftly opens it, his breath hot against her ear and warming the point of his hook, "and as Captain of this ship, I expect an answer, so when I let you open that needy little mouth of yours again, I want you to tell me just how wet you are for me, and If I find your answer pleasing, perhaps I'll fill your mouth with what you really want."
Emma nearly crumbles to the floor as he carefully draws his hook from between her teeth, the need burning through her body licking against the deepest, most vulnerable parts of her, lighting her on fire. His hand catches beneath her stomach, supporting her as he presses against the side of her head with his hook, turning her so her cheek lays against the wood and he can see her lips, swollen and red.
"Now tell me, love, what will I find when I divest you of your clothing?"
"I'm dripping," she gasps against the table, all of her anger and stress shattered in the face of what he could do to her with just his voice and the brush of his hand, "empty and fucking soaked and I need you inside of me like I need to fucking breath, okay?"
"You always did have a filthy mouth," he hisses, his hand wrapping firmly around her shoulder and jerking her upright faster than she was expecting, his arms steadying her before she even realizes she's falling. The black of his eyes are hollow and shining, spilling over the blue – and for a moment in their depths she's warm and known and loved – but then it's gone and he's stepping away from her, leaving her breathless in front of him with her hands still caught in the knot of her jacket, the world beyond his cabin fading into nothingness.
The soles of his boots creak as he paces back slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, though now all she sees is hunger, calculation as he circles her, the tip of his hook tracing her jaw and pressing gently beneath her chin, lifting her head so that the tender hollow of her neck is bared to him.
He steps closer, dragging his eyes to where her blood pulses beneath her skin, his tongue wetting his lips as he swallows and she's never felt so vulnerable, so ready to sacrifice herself to something uncontrollable and real.
"This won't do at all," he whispers, worrying the edge of her sweater between his fingers, his gentleness as sharp as the hook holding her steady. "No sense in hiding behind a shroud of decency, Swan, not when you came to me needing to be taken like the shameless wench you are."
Emma gasps as the cool air of the cabin assaults her, her head dropping as the wicked edge of his hook moves faster than she'd anticipated, slicing through the light material of her shirt and leaving it hanging ragged around her breasts, her nipples hardened into peaks beneath the thin sheen of her bra.
He leans back, his ringed fingers looping into his buckle as he surveys his work, appreciation thrumming in the back of his throat at the sight of her pink nipples straining against the flimsy material covering them. Her heart thumps wildly in her chest as he swaggers around her, his fingers brushing along the taut lines of her stomach before disappearing from her view, his breath ghosting against the back of her neck.
"Do you feel empty when you wake without me in you, love?" he rumbles, and for an instant Emma feels the ache beneath his words, the loneliness echoing between each syllable, but he swallows it back down, the drag of his fingers and the cold steel of his hook sliding what remains of her shirt down her arms.
Emma chokes down something between a moan and a whimper as he finally drags the knotted jacket from her wrists, the material thudding softly to the floor beneath them. His footfalls echo as he continues his appraisal of her, her skin flushed and heaving beneath his gaze. She manages to drag her eyes away from the bulge in his leathers to meet his gaze as he stops once more in front of her, a knowing smirk with just a hint of canine pulling at his lips.
"Once again, Swan, no need to stand on ceremony," he purrs, reaching down and palming the sizable erection that's straining at his laces. "I'm well aware you didn't stop in for the sea view."
Emma breathes out shakily, her tongue wetting her lips as he steps forward – once, twice – leaning just close enough that she thinks he might kiss her again, might devour her whole, but his lips never meet hers, his words only a whisper against her lips that make her insides twist with need.
"On your knees for the Captain, love."
There's probably something absurd about how quickly she drops to the floor, her hands hovering over the leather that's tight around his well-muscled thighs, but all she can think of is how perfect it feels to be here like this with him – the one place where she never has to say what she needs, doesn't need to explain how heavy everything feels, how it's crushing her and she just needs him to lift it all away for a little while.
Uncertain of how submissive he wants her, she watches him intently from beneath her lashes as she runs his laces through her fingertips, slowly easing the tension of fabric stretched across him until his cock springs free, heavy and thick and irresistible as she rolls her cheek against it, her grip on his pants tightening as she sighs and mouths along its length with hungry lips, her tongue tracing the ridges and veins she knows so well.
She loses herself in the smell and taste of him, the growls of pleasure that rumble from his throat as his fingers knot in her hair and his hook strokes her head pleasingly, urging her slick mouth farther down his shaft until he's butting against the back of her throat, teasing her open and forcing himself in before she's quite ready. She gags around him, adjusting, grinding her thighs together as she moans impossibly around his length, letting him slip further in.
"That's it, Swan," he groans, pulling himself wetly from her mouth before thrusting gently back down, knowing just how far he can push her, "love how you swallow my cock. You're beautiful like this, lips wrapped around me...gods above if I don't want to take you in every hole you have..."
She claws desperately at his pants as he pushes deeper into her throat, tearing the leather down so she can finally get her hands on him, fingers scratching through his curls as her other palm finds the heavy weight of his balls and squeezes, pulling just enough to make him stutter into her mouth, groaning heavily before quickening his pace, his thrusts shallower and allowing her to finally use her tongue, wrapping and swirling it around his swollen head as he glories in the heat of her mouth.
"Bloody hell," he hisses above her, finally jerking himself from her grasp even as she chases after him with a needy cry, soaked and throbbing as she tries to pull his length back into her mouth. "That's enough of that, love. I don't plan on filling only your mouth this evening." His hand rolls over the dark head of his cock before tightly gripping his shaft and jerking, his skin coated with her saliva and sliding lusciously over the tip, making her mouth open on its own accord, something ridiculously near an orgasm building between her legs as she watches him pleasure himself, wishing he was still filling her mouth.
"On you feet and find your way to the bed, minus those rather fetching pants you favor."
Her knees ache as she rises and stumbles toward his berth, not caring how desperate she must look as she slides the jeans from her legs and kicks both them and her boots to the floor in a pile, simply needing to feel him inside of her as quickly as possible, sating the fire that's burning and throbbing in her body. She rolls onto the bed just in time to watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside and rolling his shoulders – muscles rippling beneath his tan skin dappled with scars. He paces forward, shedding his pants and falling on top of her, clad only in his hook and brace, his eyes dark and sinful as he cages her in, sliding his knee up to part her thighs as a low cry rises from the back of her throat.
"You're quite talented with that mouth of yours, Swan, and as much as I enjoy spilling my seed down your greedy throat..." He lowered his mouth to the swell of her breast, his tongue laving gently around her hardened nipple and drawing another whimper from her. "I think tonight I'd prefer to be buried deep in that hungry cunt of yours when I find my release. Would you like that?"
She nods fiercely against the blankets, too lost in the feel of his teeth latching onto her other nipple to find the words to answer him, her hips jerking as he shifts and trails his fingers down her stomach and toward where she's craving him in a way that feels entirely inhuman. All conscious thought is gone, replaced with the need to feel him filling and using her as he seeks his release, dragging her along and shattering every boundary her body has ever known as she falls around him, held tightly in his arms.
A jolt of pain followed immediately by pleasure shoots through her body as his teeth press further into her sensitive flesh, a growl rumbling around her breast as his fingers pause in their journey, making her squirm with need.
"I've already warned you once, Swan, and if I have to do so again, I promise you won't like the punishment. Now, answer your Captain."
"Yes!" she hisses, hands knotted in the bed as she thrusts her hips beneath him, shivering as the heavy weight of his cock rolls across her. "Inside of me, please, I want you inside of me...wanna feel you still tomorrow, please, Hook, please..."
She can feel him smirk around her pebbled flesh, his tongue soothing the red bite marks he's left behind before moving to the other side and feasting on the pale swell of her breast.
"Do you want me here?" he murmurs, his fingers drifting through curls slicked with her juices to find the soft, velvet folds of her sex, rough calloused fingertips circling and delving inside to stroke her swollen walls before pulling free and sliding lower, coated in her arousal and pushing firmly against her puckered entrance. "Or do you want me to plunder you here, Swan? Do you want to feel me deep inside that pert bottom of yours again? Will you ride your fingers for me as you did the last time, so full you nearly wept from the pleasure of it?"
"Oh my god," she shudders, her hips jerking up, her entire core clamping down and throbbing as he teases her ass, his words nearly bringing her to the edge of orgasm. Her thoughts drift back to the way he'd felt filling her up from behind as she thrust her own fingers inside of herself, lost in the waves of something wild and hedonistic as he'd finally spilled himself deep into her. "I don't...please, Killian, I don't care...I need you, please, just..."
She finally feels him give, feels him shiver at her words and let loose the control he's been wielding expertly over her, his body dropping to cover hers as he takes her lips greedily with his own, his hand returning to her hair so he can bend her at his will, opening her mouth to him further and savoring the lingering taste of himself on her tongue.
"Emma, Emma..." he moans, her name breaking against her skin as he buries his face in her neck and thrusts his hardness roughly along her thigh, soft kisses pressing his words deeper.
She freezes beneath him.
The things he's able to pour into just the way he says her name should be impossible, because it's just a name, but then he whispers it like that against her, like a treasure no one else should ever hear, and it's so much more, too much – and he's stilling above her, his lips leaving her neck on a sigh as he pulls away from the intimacy he'd lavished against her skin, neck bowed and eyes hidden by the dark locks that spill across his face.
She hates herself a little more in that moment, seeing him so uncertain and pained, how could she not? He knows her in a way no one else does, and not just what makes her body sing, but who she really is. She'd shrugged off his insistence once that she was an open book to him, but every day since then he's proven just how true those words were, and even when it hurt him to do so, he never stopped giving her what she needed instead of asking what she could do for him.
Why can't she do the same for him? Why can't she be as strong as he sees her to be?
Swallowing the anxiety that had risen when he called out to her like he needed her, she closes her eyes and turns her face into the pillow that smells of him, unable to watch as a distance settles between them in a way that's more than physical, the cool air of the cabin settling over her skin as he returns to playing her body, giving her what she desires while he buries his own needs once more.
His fingers slip back between her thighs, his strokes becoming more certain as she grinds against their firmness, small sighs rolling from her lips as he brushes against her clit over and over, the cold hardness of his rings swirling against her entrance as he seeks out her wet channel once more, determined to make her forget that fleeting instant when he forgot the things he couldn't have. A soft cry escapes her mouth as he puts pressure in just the right place, stroking ribbed flesh and making her squirm beneath him, but it's not enough, it's not what she wants.
"Enough," she begs, twisting beneath his weight and staring down hungrily at where his hardness hangs over her, thick and red and weeping, his fingers slipping from her as she jerks him back down on top of her, her hand wrapping firmly around his shaft and guiding him toward her center. "Please..."
Her eyes flutter shut at the burning hotness of him so close to where's she's empty, but the sound of a box being popped open and the familiar noise of a foil packet tearing jars her from the moment, her eyes widening as she sees him hovering over her with the tip of the condom pinched between his fingers, waiting for her to roll it down onto his length as she normally does.
She opens her mouth, unsure of how to say what she wants, which is almost funny, because god knows she was clear and vocal enough when she explained just what condoms were and why they needed to use them when they first started...whatever this was...so instead she just takes it and reaches behind her, dropping it onto the windowsill next to the berth.
"Swan, do you not want..."
"I very much want," she insists, pulling her startled pirate back down to her for another kiss, his brow furrowed as he obliges, nipping playfully at her lip, "but I don't...I just want you, okay? Is that okay?"
She knows she should probably explain, especially since he knows that she came here running from something – running to him – an emotional 's probably remembering the conversation they'd had when they first started 'courting', as he liked to say. Hell, he'd even gone to the trouble of educating himself at the library regarding prophylactics and made sure to buy the brand that she preferred, so she knows he deserves some sort of explanation for why she's suddenly changing her mind – but right now she's having trouble thinking of anything other than how he's going to feel completely bare inside of her, and it definitely isn't the right moment to share that she started the pill, or explain to a three-hundred year old pirate what that even is...
God, she wishes she could tell him that she trusts him, that for the first time since Neal she wants to let go of that barrier that has always kept things less personal, a little more clinical and cold – something that she'd clung to ever since her youthful inexperience had left her pregnant and alone, but with Killian, she doesn't need it, doesn't want anything between them...not anymore.
She knows that what they have together, it means something, and while she's not strong enough say it yet, she can do this.
She can show him that she trusts him, that she wants to share this with him in a way she's never shared it before – wanting it and conscious of what her decision means.
There's something in those beautiful, blue eyes of his that she can't place as he looks at her, and it chips away at her a little bit more that he's always waiting on such uncertain footing around her, that he's not always sure what her actions mean for him.
"Are you certain, love?"
He's watching her carefully, and she thinks that maybe he'd intended to say something else, but when she nods her head and runs her fingers through his dark hair, smiling softly up at him, he groans and steals her lips once more, her head rocking back with the force of his kiss as his hand reaches between them and finds her wet folds. She moans into his mouth, arching into him as he shifts and the thick girth of his cock is suddenly right there, silky and pressed against her in a way that feels sinful and dangerous and right – and it is right, she knows it like she knows how to breathe, she just has to learn to stop fighting it so much, to give a little in response to him giving everything, and then maybe one day she could do the same.
He moans into her as he presses forward into her sopping heat, and this time when its her name falling from his lips like a prayer, she just tucks it away somewhere for later, for when she's scared or alone and she needs a reminder that there's at least one person who sees her and knows her as Emma.
"Gods, you're so perfect, love," he groans, rising up on his arms so he can watch her as he slowly fills her again, her tight sheath opening for him as he works deeper, "so bloody perfect."
She shivers at his words, at the look of sheer abandon on his face, pink lips parted slightly and forehead glistening with sweat as he thrusts his hips against her, her legs wrapping around him to grant him deeper access as they move together. Moans and curses blend between them at the sumptuous drag of their bodies, her walls slick and clinging to his length before opening once more as he pushes back in, his pace building as she rocks up to meet him with equal fervor – completely lost in the way he feels within her, no barrier, just his heat and velvety hardness stroking her. The berth creaks beneath them as their motions become frantic, Emma keening as he withdraws just enough that the head of his cock slips free of her before splitting her open once again.
"Oh my god, fuck," she hisses, a tempest building inside of her as the cabin fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, panted moans and cries spiraling upwards as they both strive toward that peak.
There are words on her tongue, stuck in her throat even though a part of her wants to scream them, words that promise things like love and forever – and she can't say that she loves him now, but she feels it creeping up on her in a way that's both terrifying and exhilarating.
"Killian," she cries, a wave of everything building and swelling and snapping inside of her like a storm breaking, his name falling into moans that he swallows as he leans forward and captures her lips, savoring each shudder she makes beneath him as she comes – and then he's there, chasing after her, his cock swelling somehow even larger within her already trembling walls before he roars into the heat of her mouth and explodes, every inch of him pulsing and washing her with his essence, her climax surging once more at the feel of him actually filling her with his warmth.
It's the way he softens inside of her, their bodies as close as they'll ever be, his seed slipping from between them and spilling onto her skin, that triggers something within her, something that makes her want to cling to him and just say all of those things stuck in her throat – I think I'm falling in love with you. I think I trust you not to leave. Please don't leave me.
Instead she holds him a little tighter when he moves to retrieve a cloth, mumbling and pulling him back down as she kisses him gently, her leg threading between his to bring them closer.
Maybe one day she'll be stronger, able to look into his eyes and tell him those things that she just can't manage to say now. Maybe one day she'll be a little less of a disappointment to herself, but as he he whispers tender things she's almost sure he didn't mean to say, pulling a blanket over the both of them and tucking her into his side, she thinks that for now it enough that she knows the words are there.
It's enough that she knows this something between them is definitely more – and as long as he's the person she keeps running to, they have every chance of growing it into something that could just maybe be everything.