A/N: I've got several stories going around in my head. And I can't seem to get any of them finished. But today, my husband is working on his truck and I'm delighted to helping him. Which means I can sit and work on this and wait for him to ask me for a part or a tool.
I'm not 100% pleased with this. But I kind of like the idea that Killian not kissing another woman after Milah.
Without further ado:
That was...
Killian flirted with women. All women. He liked to see them blush when he spoke an innuendo. And while he liked that, he also treated them respectfully; he did believe in good form. But, he wasn't ashamed to admit that in his long life, he hadn't hesitated to pay for sex. He was a sailor after all. Milah had changed that in him. Despite her marriage, Killian was committed to her. And she to him. They found pleasure in each other's bodies and only each other. His crew treated Milah like the Captain's wife and so did he. He'd loved kissing her, caressing her, of being gentle when she needed him to be.
After her death, he buried himself in revenge. And eventually, he also buried himself in women and drink. Whenever the Jolly Roger made port, Killian didn't lack for female companionship. The whores at the taverns were always willing and he sought the momentary bliss that sex brought. But there was one thing, he couldn't do. He couldn't bring himself to kiss them. Many a night as he and the wench found themselves in his room, the woman would lean in to kiss him and he'd divert this mouth so that he would kiss her collarbone, her neck, or suck on a luscious nipple. Not one complained. He couldn't bring himself to mate his mouth with someone other than his Milah.
Except once. One night, Killian found himself in high company as he played dice and drank with two lovely lasses on either side of him. He concentrated on the game and his winnings, but wasn't deterred by the pleasant feel of their hands as they ran them along his chest and thighs. And then suddenly, as his opponent sulked off, a golden goddess flounced before him and asked to join his game. The two companions left him in a huff as they realized his attention wouldn't be with either of them tonight. "Next time, Captain," the brunette murmured.
Killian and the new lass sat drinking together and chatting. The lovely creature had a long graceful neck thy he wanted to kiss and taste. She refused to tell him her name. And when she delayed in accompanying him to his ship, he began to regret that he'd ever begun this challenge. "What do you say, love. Come back with me to my ship for a nightcap. Care to set sail, or shall I find another?" He saw it then. She wasn't planning on letting him out of her sight.
Mr. Smee needed a good admonishment. Who! Who's captain of this ship?! Killian Jones! Captain Hook himself! But mere moments after his flaxen muse disappeared into his cabin, Killian followed. She met him at the ladder as if she was about to leave. "I do hope you're not going anywhere," he spoke with only slight irritation.
"I just got tired of waiting," she replied. And before he could do anything else, she grabbed him by the lapels and brought her lips to his.
Fireworks that would rival King Midas' went off behind his eyes. His tongue acted of its own accord and sought entry to her mouth. She granted access and the slippery slide of their tongues threw fuel in the already combusting fire in his loins.
"Apologies, a woman as lovely as you deserves my compete attention," she smiled a genuinely list filled smile but before he could lean into her again, a hook of all things caught his shoulder and spun him around.
And then nothing.
The next morning, Killian roused himself and tried to recall the previous night. Running his tongue along his lips, he could taste something that lingered. He could recall golden hair and a warm body in his arms. He knew he'd kissed her, broken his unspoken vow to Milah. But he didn't feel regret or remorse. Who was she? Where was she?
Days went by, then weeks and months. The memory of the golden woman faded and he refocused on Rumpelstiltskin. Ports came and ports went. Women came and went. And Killian found himself once again not kissing the current woman he was fucked. Once again, he didn't want to touch his lips with another's.
Decades come and go, and he found himself in the company of hero's and villains. He shared his ship with his worst enemy no less. But the quest was noble, to save a child from a demon and a demonic place. He could feel Liam's presence and influence, and remembered the good form he once prided himself on.
The challenge of finding Henry was further complicated by their internal bickering and side-problems. Killian did his best to school his expression, but the same heartache he experimented when Liam was dying of Dream Shade raced through him as he watched the poison work it's way under David's skin inching closer to his heart. And relief washed over him as the poison recessed under Neverland's magic water. At least now he knew (and David knew) the price of that magic.
David couldn't seem to stop himself from kissing his wife when the two made it back to camp. And while the charming prince changed the details of the story (yes, he lied), he did give Killian credit for saving his life. Emma took a sip of his rum, saying, "To Hook."
He didn't expect Emma to kiss him. He honestly thought she'd push him away, saying that she didn't fraternize with villains. But he saw the gleam in her eye just before she grabbed the lapels of his coat.
Fireworks!
Again!
Again?
Her taste, her smell, the way one hand remained locked around his lapel, and the other buried itself in his hair. It was... familiar.
She broke apart from him. And gods above he couldn't let her go. He chased her lips and crashed his mouth to hers agains. His tongue pushed against her lips and delved into her mouth.
Familiar.
Home.
Her.
Emma pulled away from him again. And he chased her again. But she angled her lips away, even though she kept her forehead pressed to his.
"That was..."
"A one time thing," she breathed out.
That was...familiar.
