Chapter Summary: Stilling his own breath, Hook disregarded the rustle of the trees in the wind and listened more intently, straining to hear what he thought may have been the dulcet tones of – a slow smirk pulled at his lip, the rogue in him stirring, and his gaze swiveled back toward the grey house behind the white fence, the sound drifting toward him from an open window near to the ground. (Part of a series, each oneshot will contain the appropriate tags, please read if you have any squicks/triggers)
Tags: M/F, Emma/Killian, Voyeurism, Voeyeur!Hook, Canon Divergent, Light Angst
Despite his many years spent aboard a vessel at sea, Hook still hadn't adapted to the strange unsteadiness and disorientation that portal travel entailed, stumbling a bit as the spinning vortex heaved him forward, his boots catching on rough ground and nearly sending him to his knees before he managed to find his balance once more. He darted behind the nearest cover as soon as his head ceased spinning, scanning the immediate vicinity to ensure he hadn't been seen.
Behind him the portal had already blinked out of existence, any chance Hook had of returning to his realm vanishing along with its light, but the moon was full and bright overhead, making it easy to discern that he'd traveled into some sort of town. Buildings as large as manors faced one another along a street composed of a flat stretch of odd, black stone, and ahead of him squatted a white fence that bordered a small length of it. The gate was open, and beside it loomed the dark shadow of a tree, adorning the corner of the yard that boasted a large, grey house with white columns.
From within its lower windows came the soft, steady glow of a lamp.
Though he'd traveled between several realms in his many years, this place felt entirely foreign to him, every turn of his neck giving him yet another strange contraption to ponder – but through it all, the wind was still carrying the smell of the sea to him on its back, and that would always be a small comfort that reminded him of home.
Standing in the darkened street, he was left wondering just what in this realm was supposed to lead him to a cure for his poisoned heart – back to his Alice – as the Seer had promised. With no direction or further knowledge to guide his choice, he decided to follow the road between the rows of houses until he met something more like a tavern or market, perhaps there he would be able to glean some useful information.
He was about to set out when a sound caught his ear and he paused – uncertain that had heard correctly.
Stilling his own breath, he disregarded the rustle of the trees in the wind and listened more intently, straining to hear what he thought may have been the dulcet tones of – a slow smirk pulled at his lip, the rogue in him stirring, and his gaze swiveled back toward the grey house behind the white fence, the sound drifting toward him from an open window near to the ground.
The logical part of him was chiding that there was no purpose in lingering in this place, but something in his gut urged him closer – besides, reminded the half of him that would always be a pirate, it wouldn't hurt to gather some information on the locals. If anything were true of each port city he'd visited, no matter the realm, it was that illicit trysts were quite common, and what sort of pirate would he be if he were to pass up an opportunity for a little blackmail – especially if it might be the change in winds he needed to get back to his daughter.
Not much of a pirate, and not much of a father.
His mind resolved, he disappeared through the open gate and sidled closer to the house, the sounds from within growing louder as he neared. Testing his weight on the first step and finding it sound and sturdy, he took each one slowly and carefully, advancing toward the turreted portion of the house where a window had been opened to allow the breeze to enter. He pressed the leather of his greatcoat against the wall of the house, making certain no portion of his body would be visible from within should the moonlight be enough to illuminate where he stood.
There was a long moment of silence when he feared he'd made noise enough to be discovered, but then the sounds began again and his eyes closed of their own accord, something about the timbre of the woman's voice cutting through him to a place he hadn't wanted to admit he still possessed.
"Oh, god," she whimpered, drawing in a sharp breath before more words fell from her, "fuck...just like that...oh, god, don't stop, please, don't stop..."
Hook's fingers clenched at his side and a shaky breath slid from his throat, the woman's pleas burning like a flame along his skin, his cock stirring to life. Then came the sound of someone moving and another moan drifted toward him, the woman's voice rising into a broken cry as her lover played her beautifully. Beyond the blissful moans falling from her lips, he could just barely hear the wet sounds of her pleasure – most certainly the music of someone feasting on her delicate, pink folds.
His own cock was rock hard in his leathers as the soft moans and pleas continued from within, a pang of guilt stabbing through his gut as he listened to the lovers together, wondering whether or not he was truly standing here eavesdropping with an intention to use any and all means he had in order to get back to his daughter, or for his own self-indulgence – it had been years since he'd felt even a stirring of longing for another, since the witch deceived him, and yet...
He shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line and jaw clenched, preparing to quietly take his leave. Whoever this woman was, she didn't deserve to have her intimacies defiled in this way, no matter what she had woken in him that had been long dormant. Though he was desperate, he still believed in good form, or at least the shadow of it. He was carefully finding the most trustworthy planks on the deck when the next words from the the house made his blood run cold, his heart tightening in his chest and a shiver of something unknown racing up his spine.
"Killian, please...need you in me already..."
His breath left him on a shudder, something between adrenaline and fear pumping through his body as he tried to decide whether to flee or press himself closer, to look through the glass and see...after all, surely he couldn't be the only man bearing that name – it must be nothing more than an eerie coincidence.
"The things hearing you beg does to me, love..." a familiar voice rumbled, its timbre just offset enough that Hook was certain he was learning what he himself sounded like to others.
Heedlessly, he leaned into view of the window and peered through the glass, needing the confirmation that only his eyes could give him.
Half draped across the back of a settee was a woman, her hair falling in a golden tumble over her face, hiding it from his view, but clear enough was the dimly lit form of the man leaning over her, his chest bare save for a familiar brace that circled his shoulder and traveled the length of his arm, the remainder of it concealed by the delicate arc of the woman's back – but Hook didn't need to see what rested at the end of the man's arm, he knew, just as surely as he knew that the strong line of the man's jaw, the dark brows and disheveled mop of black hair were the same as those he's seen in the looking glass for years – well, perhaps some years younger, as there were no silver streaks such as the ones he had earned for himself.
Unable to look away, unable to truly understand what he was seeing, Hook watched as the man – Killian, she'd called him, and how long had it been since someone had called him that – dragged his hand across his mouth once to wipe her arousal from his lips, and then once more, rings glistening, as he licked every remnant of it from his fingers.
"Tell me," the woman purred, sweeping a delicate hand over her face and drawing back the curtain of golden tresses, tossing them over her shoulder – everything stopped.
Hook's lips parted and his gaze focused only on her as the movement revealed the most stunning woman he'd ever laid eyes on – her high, rounded cheeks flushed with color, pink lips swollen from where she'd caught them in her teeth. Her eyes flickered open briefly, settling on the window, and for an instant he feared she may have seen him, but she was too far gone in her pleasure, granting him only the smallest glimpse of emerald green before her lashes fluttered shut once more.
He needed to see them again.
"What does it do to you, hearing me beg?" she whispered, rolling her back and pushing the rounded swell of her bottom more firmly against where she was held anchored. "Tell me..."
Her body shuddered, lips opening on a silent moan, the pale swell of her breast and its rosy nipple peeking over the edge of the settee as she writhed, and Hook could only assume it was due to whatever this other version of himself was doing with his hook below the graceful bend of her stomach.
"Emma," the man – Killian – spoke in a strained whisper, Hook only just able to hear the words he murmured against her skin as he bowed himself over her back, painting the slope of her neck with soft kisses. "It makes me want to stroke every inch of your skin, to wring every breath of pleasure from your body until you've no words left to beg, until there's no wanting left in you...until I've given you all you need and more..."
"Just you, Killian," she breathed. "I only need you."
Heaviness settled in Hook's chest like a storm pressing in from all sides as the woman – Emma, her name was Emma – shifted and reached beneath her, a moan of startled pleasure falling from Killian's lips as she grasped his length and guided him into her body, the glow of the lamp within shimmering on their skin as they began a slow, languorous rhythm, her body undulating beneath him like the sea itself.
"It's always been you, Emma..." he breathed, her lips framing the most beautiful sound Hook had ever heard as she keened beneath her lover, desperate to have him as close and deep within her as was possible.
Words broke amid the moans and pants rushing from her lips, but they were soon lost in the slap of their bodies together as they sought their peak, silver flashing through the air as he rose and grasped her hips, the furniture shaking beneath them as he drew back and thrust himself into her over and over, each drive harsher than the last as curses fell from her lips, her fingers digging into the dark fabric beneath them as she clung to it like a woman drowned.
"God, fuck, oh my god..." Emma whimpered, "I'm so close...so full..."
"Aye, you take me so well, love," Killian panted behind her, his hair damp with sweat and falling into his face, the blue of his gaze startling vivid for only a moment before his head rolled back in ecstasy, the lamplight glancing off the sharp bob of his throat as he swallowed. Hook's eyes traced the movement, his own body echoing the younger version of himself as he inhaled and swallowed heavily.
Barely aware that he'd moved at all, Hook palmed his own cock in his hand, his leathers straining and painful over his swollen flesh as he watched them both, rooted to the spot though he knew he should leave. It would be so simple to tug free his laces and take himself in hand, to relieve the burning need that would otherwise remain unquenched as he watched his twin bed the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but the heaviness that lingered in his chest reminded him that this wasn't meant for him. This moment wasn't his, and nor were the words traded between them as he carefully slipped from the porch and melded back into the shadows.
"I love you," she said, her words lost in the wind just as they reached his ears, and like a dream he let them pass, holding onto only the memory of something beautiful he couldn't quite keep.
He shouldn't have returned, but days spent lingering around the outskirts of town had done little in the way of providing information, and given what – or rather who – he'd seen the other night, there was an added risk to showing his face among the townsfolk for any longer than a brief glimpse. Only now he was left with a narrowing path forward, the words of the Seer echoing in his mind.
His feet had carried him here just as surely as the heavy longing still lodged between his ribs, and though the morning was still young, he'd learned enough of the man and woman who lived here to know they would be gone for the rest of the day, so he would indulge his curiosities – the persistent feeling that this was where he needed to be – and perhaps he would find his heading.
In the light of day it was easier to take in the details of the abode, the walls a calming grey-blue that recalled the sea on a cloudy morning, the whitewashed columns and woodwork pristine and ornate. Making certain no one had spied him, Hook passed once more through the gate and headed quickly around the house, ignoring the steps he'd climbed only a few nights earlier. It would be far better to gain entry away from the sight of prying eyes, even if he did hold more than a passing resemblance to the Killian who lived here.
His clothing alone would set him apart, and it certainly would not go unremarked upon.
His spirits were lifted when he saw yet another set of stairs leading to an entry at the secluded rear of the house, and knowing that Emma and Killian – the names he'd heard fall from their lips in moments of passion – would be gone, he hurried up the steps without worrying about making too much noise. As he suspected, the door was locked, but a quick swivel of a lock-pick within the mechanism and some pressure applied with his hook was enough to gain entry.
Easing the door closed, he found himself in a hall that led toward the front of the house, several pairs of shoes and boots lined nearly in a small alcove, jackets draped above them from wrought iron hooks. A doorway to his right led to some sort of privy, though for the life of him he couldn't identify the other strange equipment within. Though from the heaped piles of clothing atop them – the red fabric of a sweater Emma had worn only the day before and several black shirts drawing his eye – he imagined they were some sort of contraption for laundering clothing.
He passed through the hallway into the main quarters quickly, not wanting to waste what time he had sifting through their linens, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the settee he'd watched them make love on the other evening – for there was no mistaking the way in which they'd moved and claimed one another, the words they whispered into each other's skin. It was a feeling he remembered from long ago, from the woman etched onto his own skin, but it was also something he'd long ago given up hope of ever finding once more.
For a time, he'd had Alice, and she'd been more then enough – she'd been his everything – despite the trickery that had led to her birth, but now he'd lost even her, and the pressing loneliness he'd felt watching Emma and Killian – this strange, otherworld version of himself – make love had been a reminder that she was why he was here.
He needed to do as the Seer had directed, only then would he be able to cure his heart and find her.
Pulling his gaze away from where he could still see gold hair tumbling and the slick roll of two bodies together, Hook turned toward the stairs. He was uncertain what he was searching for – though his instincts told him there had to be a reason why the portal had chosen to land him here, immediately outside the home of a man who was his twin – but whatever it was, he was sure he would not find it in the main living area.
He rounded the corner of the banister and ascended quickly, hissing at the sharp squeak that sounded from one of the steps near the landing for the next floor, but relaxing when he remembered that he was alone. Both Emma and Killian would be doing as they did every other day, patrolling the town, and the boy who sometimes resided with them – perhaps a son, and that was just one more knife in his heart – would not be returning until this afternoon, if he did at all. Most nights he seemed curiously missing, and Hook had tracked him down to another home with another woman who also seemed to mother him.
Strange and curious.
He bypassed a room that clearly belonged to the young lad, heading instead toward the end of the hall where the edge of a curtain whispered in the breeze from an open window, the movement catching his eye. His boots echoed as he stepped off the edge of the carpet runner and entered the room, his gaze sliding to a large, four-post bed set against the wall to his right, its crisp, white linens made with a fastidious hand, recalling to mind how he used to tuck the blankets into his own berth when he'd had one. White fabric like gossamer or the finest silk hung from its canopy, tied neatly around the posts, and he found himself running his hand along the edge of the sumptuous bedding before he'd even realized he'd moved to its side, imagining their bodies stretched across it in the throes of pleasure.
He swallowed heavily, reminding himself that he was not here to pine over things he couldn't have, but instead to find what information he could about this other version of himself and the woman he loved. Perhaps if he only knew more about them, he would know whether or not they could help – whether they would when he had nothing to offer in return.
A familiar sensation at his throat stilled him before he could turn from the bed, the sharp prick of heavy metal and the press of another body against his back – his own hand knocked from his sword before he could act on the instinct to pull it free. He silently cursed the distraction his weakness had created, keeping him from hearing the man sneak up on him – then again, it was his house. Surely he knew how to move about it quietly, missing the squeaky stair and gaps of wood in the hallway.
"You'd better have a bloody good answer for just who you are, and why you're in my home, mate," the younger version of himself hissed in his ear, the tip of his hook digging in deeply enough to his skin that his intentions were clear, a small trickle of blood running warmly down his neck.
"I assure you, I mean no harm to you or your family," Hook sighed, knowing he'd gone and made a mess of things, but he hadn't been able to help himself. He was lost with no idea of what he was supposed to do in order to achieve what the Seer had seen, and for some reason, he'd been drawn back here.
"I'm sure you'll understand that it's a little hard to trust the words coming from someone who looks exactly like me – especially since you broke into my home and here you are, in my quarters."
"Not exactly though," Hook chuckled dryly, "a little more grey on top of my head, but I've not been magicked to look like you, if that's your concern. If I had, I certainly wouldn't have aged myself unnecessarily."
"Aye, well, it wouldn't be the first time some witch has made an error – who are you?" Killian growled.
"It appears I'm you, mate, though I've only just traveled to this realm from my own."
"Is that so? And what realm might that be?" Killian asked, grabbing his greatcoat suddenly and dragging him across the room, jabbing him roughly in the back as he shoved him toward an upholstered chair sitting opposite the bed and near a window.
"I'm from the Enchanted Forest," Hook sighed, easing himself into the chair and raising his hand and hook in resignation before placing them both down onto the arms of the chair where his twin could keep an eye on his movements.
"That's a lie," Killian retorted, a look of annoyance crossing his features as he pulled a small, black box-like object from his pocket and opened it, glancing down at its surface before snapping it shut. "You see, I'm from the Enchanted Forest – and I know for certain that they're weren't two of me walking about, so I'll give you one last chance to answer me truthfully. Where are you from?"
Hook sighed, his fingers reaching to scratch behind his ear before he caught the tension in Killian's body and lowered his hand once more.
"Perhaps my world is known as something else to you and your people, but I wouldn't be privy to what that is – I only know that I was born and lived there, and I spent the last years of my life in a kingdom called Misthaven, ruled by Queen Snow White and her consort."
A look of something Hook couldn't decipher flashed across Killian's face, and for a moment he had hope that his twin did know something of his world, that perhaps he even believed that he was no threat and would be able to aid him in his quest.
"I see you're less a hand," Killian gestured, "just as I am, so tell me...Hook...what happened to the Crocodile who took it? Were you able to exact your revenge?"
Memories of his duel with Ahab resurfaced, the barely noticeable heat as the bullet grazed his arm, the thrill of winning only to find that in the end he had truly lost.
"Alas, I did not," he spoke, looking ahead but seeing only Alice. "I gave up my revenge, and as for the Crocodile, well he suffered a far worse fate than I would have been able to deliver to him."
"What would be a fate worse than death for the Dark One?"
"He's trapped in a cell of Snow White's making, his powers useless, stuck for an eternity with only his madness and scheming."
"And that's why you gave up your revenge?"
"No," Hook breathed, knowing that saying the words aloud to another would simply rip the wound wide open once more – he'd never forget the pain of having to leave her side, to abandon her until he was able to find a cure. "I have a daughter, and she was taken from me. I need to get back to her...I tried for years and failed, but then I chanced upon a Seer, and she promised a solution was within reach..."
Hook finally shifted his gaze to meet Killian's once more, a heavy sigh leaving the other man's lips as he walked to the bed and dropped onto its edge, a pained look flitting across his features.
"I think you may just be from a realm we call the Wish Realm," he began, "but you're not...you're not as Emma described from her time spent there."
"Emma's been to my realm?" Hook questioned, unable to hide the flash of something akin to envy on his face as he imagined a time where perhaps he would have crossed paths with her.
"How do you know Emma, mate?" Killian hedged, his tone suddenly cooler and eyes sharp once more.
Hook swallowed the sense of loss in his throat and raised his hands once more, arching a brow and throwing a smirk at his twin that he hoped might allay his worries.
"I may be older than you, but I've not lost my edge – I've been watching and learning about this town since I came through the portal, and Emma, she's spoke of often."
"This portal, did anyone else come through with you?"
"No, it was only myself. I don't – " I don't have anyone else. "I swear."
There was a moment of silence in which Killian weighed his words, considering each of them, but perhaps being able to sense through some familiarity of their pasts that he was telling the truth, he continued.
"Emma has traveled to your realm, briefly, but she said when she crossed paths with you, you were quite a bit...older – far more than a few grey hairs, mate – and perhaps...not as trim as we are now. She may have pressed a bit more water and a bit less rum on me after that."
"And you're certain this was my realm?"
"Aye, the Wish Realm is the only one we know of wherein the Evil Queen wasn't able to cast her Dark Curse and Rumplestiltskin rots, imprisoned."
"That is indeed my realm then, but I don't know..." Hook muttered, his fingers running through his hair as he tried to consider a reason for the differences. "I've no explanation of how time works between realms, wish or not, but I can assure you it's the truth that my age is as it seems. It took me years to find the Seer who set me on my current path, who gave me hope that my curse would not last forever and that I could get my daughter back."
"What's your daughter's name?"
"Alice," he whispered, his eyes falling closed as the sound passing his lips brought to mind her sweet smile and warm eyes. "I named her after – "
"Our mother, aye," Killian finished, his own words weighted with the sadness and longing of a past long gone – a past they both shared. "Well, what is it this Seer has prophesied you are to find here? What will aid in breaking your curse and returning you to your daughter?"
"She looked into my future and claimed there were many branching paths, but that there was a land called Storybrooke, and in that place waited the cure for my cure – that I need only find a magic bean and think of my happy ending, and then I would find it..."
Killian's head shot up from his hand as the words left Hook's mouth, a flicker of true fear passing over his face as he met Hook's gaze, the color from moments earlier drained from his cheeks.
"Your happy ending?" he rasped, and the tightness of his jaw did not go unnoticed by Hook. "And where did this portal leave you, if I might ask?"
"In the street outside, a few days past," Hook admitted, hoping that his twin wouldn't put two and two together and realize he'd been witness to their more intimate activities, that it would ruin any chance he had of gaining their help. "Might you know – "
"You'll need to speak with Emma then," Killian nearly whispered, the tension from his jaw carrying through to the rest of his body as he stood, his eyes focused somewhere else as he gazed past Hook into some distance only he could see.
"And Emma will know how to help me find it, my happy ending, so that I might break this curse?"
"Aye, mate – your happy ending's always been one thing..."
"What is it?" Hook asked, desperation coloring his voice as he gripped the arm of the chair fiercely, hope flaring in his chest for the first time in years.
But his twin merely shook his head and rose, gesturing that he should wait where he was before turning and leaving the room, his boots muffled against the carpeting as he disappeared from sight, and though Hook could just barely catch the faintest whisper leaving his lips, he was too far to understand the words that Killian had exhaled like a dying breath – one person.