Chapter 2

Morning's pleasant glow inched over the thick carpets, creeping up towards the bed Emma had somehow found refuge in the night before after returning to her room, despondent. She'd laid awake for hours, haunted by the memory of Killian's warm breath, the heat of his hand, the caress of his lips, the way his touch brought her to life and his words made her yearn for things her body never knew it wanted before.

Other words had tormented her as well; harsh declarations she still hadn't been convinced were sincere as they echoed in her ears throughout the night. She could not reconcile the man who had scoffed at her wishes that there be some manner of affection between them, with the man who had shown her such deference since her arrival.

While his intentions last night hadn't exactly been proper in the truest sense of the word, Emma couldn't overlook his insistence that she be a willing participant in their activities. He had the power to force compliance from her, but he hadn't, even when temptation had been wantonly splayed across his dining table, trembling from its own completion. He had respected her enough to heed her refusal to take matters any further, and had honored her wishes without applying undue pressure to his seduction.

And if she were being truly honest with herself, it would not have taken much more in the way of enticement from him in order to get her into his bed.

Lying awake during the dark hours of the night, with nothing but her ruminations and the memory of his touch, she had nearly abandoned all resolve. More than once she'd made it to the door of her room, intent on seeking him out so he might placate the ache left behind, all the while chastising herself for such weakness. Regardless of how the man had made her feel, the terms he'd set were clear. She was a means to an end and nothing more. Nevertheless, Emma couldn't stop herself from wondering if he might be capable of seeing her as more than what she'd accused him of the previous evening. More than just another deal to be sealed.

She had to be practical now, though. In the stark light of day, though her passions still simmered beneath the surface, she had to remain strong in her convictions.

Convictions that included his assurance that any child they might create together would not be used in the course of some nefarious scheme. For she could no longer delude herself with dedications of resistance. Temptation would get the better of her sooner or later. A certainty she was willing to relent, considering she was already eager for it to be sooner, despite her natural trepidations as a maiden.

As to any consideration of affection? Such thoughts she relinquished as longings of childish whimsy and flights of fancy, which had no place in the reality she found herself in. She had made a deal, and though the price was not one she had intended on paying, she now found herself not wholly against the necessities required to satisfy her outstanding debt.

Besides, the sooner their business was concluded, the sooner she could return home, to people who did care for her and gave of their affections freely.

With the matter settled in her own mind, Emma threw off the blankets and began her usual morning routine. It was as she was slipping her shoes onto her feet that she saw it. Another letter had been delivered beneath her door.

My Dearest Swan,

Please accept my sincerest apologies.

My behavior last night was the height of bad form, and though I do not at all regret the more intimate aspects of our evening, I am grieved by how I left things between us.

I am also sorry that I will not be available today to make these amends in person. There is a pressing matter I must see to, so I therefore invite you to take the day to explore the castle and grounds as you wish.

I shall endeavor to make up for my behavior when I return to you.

Yours,

Killian

Emma wanted to stamp her foot in exasperation. The man was maddening! Just when she was ready to face him with detached pragmatism, he sends her a letter that has her heart fluttering and longing for his return.

What sort of game was he playing at?

Having spent too much time in thoughts of the Dark One and his even darker allure, Emma determined to put him out of her mind and, instead, spent time exploring. The grounds around the castle were simply stunning, with the vibrancy of the trees displaying their vanity in hues of red, yellow, and orange leaves. Late blooms of fragrant flowers flourished within the gardens, leading to a small reflection pool nestled along the backside of the castle. Emma sat upon a small stone bench, wrapping her shawl around her to ward off the chill of the shadows, and relaxed in the quiet moment of the late morning until midday hunger prompted her to return.

Feeling refreshed from her stroll, and the purposeful focus towards more tranquil thoughts, she crossed the threshold, and was taken aback to find a stout man with a red knit cap calling out for a hook in the entry.

"Can I help you?" she asked, startling the man who quickly whipped off his cap.

"Pardon me, Miss," he greeted with a jovial smile. "I'm William Smee. I'm here to see Hook."

"Who?"

Her perplexed tone and expression had the man floundering. "H-Hook. You know… the Dark One?"

Choosing to ignore the moniker for the moment, Emma told him, "He isn't here." Then muttered, "Which is probably best, for your sake."

"Oh?" Smee questioned, slipping his cap back onto his head. "Why's that?"

"Because no one comes out on the better end of one of his deals," she sighed. "I should know."

Smee balked at her statement. "He made a deal? With you?"

"You seem surprised by that."

"I am!" he stated with a bit of a chortle. "I thought I was the only one he'd ever made a deal with."

Emma's brows scrunched together. "But… the stories. The items littering this castle that reek of deals gone wrong, they-"

"All belonged to his predecessor, Rumplestiltskin," he informed her. "Hook didn't realize what he was getting into by seeking his revenge against that old crocodile. Became the Dark One, not wanting anything to do with the power it gave him, but he became a slave to the Darkness nonetheless."

Intrigued by what Smee knew, and seemed willing to share about the man who continued to be an enigma to her, Emma invited Smee into the nearby drawing room and gestured for him to have a seat before pressing him for more information. "Why did he want revenge against the former Dark One?"

"For taking his hand and the love of his life," Smee prattled on. "We spent decades in Neverland trying to find a way to kill the beast. It was Pan who told us about the dagger, but he failed to mention the price one paid in using it. Hook was devastated when he learned the truth, too late."

"Why do you call him Hook?"

"That's his name," he said, as though it were obvious. "Captain Hook. It's what I've always called him." Leaning in with a glint of keen interest in his eye, Smee asked, "Why? What do you call him?"

"Killian," she told him with a shrug of her shoulders. "He told me his name was Killian Jones."

"He asked you to call him Killian?" Smee clarified with incredulity. "I don't think anyone has called him that since Mi... uh, since her."

"Her?" Emma questioned, a stone falling into the pit of her stomach as she remembered, "The woman he loved? The one the previous Dark One killed?" Smee nodded solemnly. "Why won't you say her name?"

"Cap'n doesn't like it," he told her, his tone brimming with a firm loyalty towards the man he'd once served.

The man he'd served and later made a deal with. Apparently, the only deal the current Dark One had made... until he'd made one with her.

"Mr. Smee?" Emma hedged, uncertain if she really wanted to ask it of him or not. "What deal did you make with him?"

A soft smile lifted the corners of the man's mouth, but it was wrapped in a sadness Emma could almost feel penetrating to the very center of her being.

"Before the curse," he began. "Hook was captain of the Jolly Roger. A magnificent ship made of enchanted wood. When he became the Dark One…" His words fell away, as if finding the right ones pained him. "Well, let's just say he and the ship didn't get on too well afterward. Too much of a clash between his dark magic and the light magic she was enchanted with." Smee's eyes fell towards the floor, his voice growing thick with emotion. "It broke his heart to turn away from the sea and the vessel he loved, but remaining at her helm would have crippled her."

After a long moment, Smee cleared his throat and turned his gaze back to her, shaking off the melancholy as he finished the tale. "So, he offered me a deal. He agreed to renew my age each year, so I would never grow old, if I agreed to be her captain and look after her. We've each held to that agreement for nearly two hundred years."

"Two hundred years?" Emma marveled, her mouth hanging open in stupefaction.

"Aye," Smee affirmed with a chuckle at her expense. "Which is why I'm here. Time to renew the terms of our agreement."

Two hundred years? And in all that time he'd only made two deals?

"If I may be so bold as to ask," Smee spoke with a similar hesitation her tone had carried when she'd asked of him, "What deal did you make with him?"

Emma's cheeks flushed. "I, uh… I asked him to spare my father's life," she told him. "In exchange…" She was tempted to lie, to simply tell him she was to pay the debt through a term of domesticated service, but his insight on why the Dark One might wish for a child was an opportunity she could not pass up. "The price of my father's lasting health is that of my first born child."

Smee's eyes grew as wide as saucers, and his brows pinched sharply together. All of Emma's hopes in gaining a newfound perspective were dashed when he inquired, "What the bloody hell would the captain want with a child?" His bewilderment at the circumstance spilled over to her when he asked, "And why would you agree to that? What does your husband think of such an arrangement?"

"I, uh… I have no husband," she confessed.

"Then how are you supposed to… oh!"

The man's already ruddy cheeks flamed an even deeper shade of red, as did Emma's.

"I did not think he meant for the payment to be immediate," she explained, defensively. "When I agreed, I thought…" Letting go a heavy sigh, she admitted, "Honestly, I thought I could get away with never having to pay the price. I thought he meant to wait until I was married and had a child with my husband, and that if I simply never married, then…"

Smee's booming laugh jarred Emma from her confession. An offended huff left her lungs as she stared at the man who was doubled over in his amusement.

"You tried to outwit the most notoriously cunning pirate to ever sail the seas?" Smee guffawed. Wiping away the mirth that had leaked from his eyes, he managed to compose himself enough to give her a sympathetic smile. "My dear lass, heed my words. You'll never beat Hook at his own game. Best to concede defeat, or change the game altogether."

His shoulders still shaking with laughter, Smee stood and requested. "Will you let the captain know I came by? Tell him he can find me at the docks for the next few days."

"I will," Emma replied, standing so she could escort him out.

"You should have him bring you along," Smee suggested before departing. "Then you could see the Jolly Roger firsthand."

Emma wasn't so sure Killian would agree to such a request. Not without an offer of reciprocity. And it did not require too much effort to guess what boon he would seek in trade. Of course, she could offer to begin making good on their deal that very evening if he agreed to her appeal, but then… wouldn't that make her no better than the slatterns she'd already accused him of treating her as in similar regard?

"We'll see," she replied, noncommittally, bidding him goodbye.

After locating the kitchen and fending off her hunger, Emma turned Smee's words over in her mind as she continued to explore the castle. He was right. Emma could never hope to win against Killian in a game of seduction, but she could change the game altogether. Play by her own rules, as it were. Ensure that while he applied his efforts towards wooing her body, she would be focused on wooing something else. Something she had admonished herself for wanting just that morning. Something, though he'd possessed it once before, he claimed to have no need of or interest in.

A claim she was determined to prove false.

~/~

Though her day had been filled with little more than wanderings and musings, Emma found herself quite weary making her way back towards her room as the sun began to set that evening. Coming to the fork in the hallway, the sounds of rushing water prompted her to turn down the corridor that led away from her chamber. Rounding the corner she saw a soft glow emitting from a door that had been left ajar. Upon further inspection, Emma gasped, to find a grand bath, completely encased in marble with a sunken pool in the center of the floor.

Steam wafted from the expansive basin, and along its edge were tiny bottles and a lush sponge. Wasting no time in heeding the siren call of a fresh bath, Emma stripped off her clothes and stepped into the pool. Lowering herself down into the warm, luxuriant waters until she was sat upon her bottom, the water line rippling just beneath her breasts, Emma reached over and began examining the bottles.

A few contained oils, rich and fragrant, that teased the inside of her nose as the aroma wafted up through the steam after she poured out their contents. Others contained cleansers, which she generously applied to the sponge before dipping her head back in order to soak her hair and give it a good washing.

Piling her freshly washed strands atop her head, she reapplied lather to the sponge and set to work on the rest of her body. The gentle scratch of its textured surface felt wondrous over her skin, leaving a pinked trail behind as she scrubbed her arms and legs. The floating steam of the perfectly heated waters, the scent of the aromatic oils she'd added to the bath, and the decadence of the rich lather caressing her skin caused a soft, contented moan to pass her lips as she dipped the sponge between her breasts.

"Need a hand with that, love?"

Emma's eyes snapped open at the sultry sound of Killian's voice lightly reverberating off the marbled walls. It took her a moment to remember her nakedness, distracted by the sight of him peeling his suspenders from his shoulders and removing his gossamer shirt by the back of its collar, exposing his toned physique and the blanket of chest hair that had teased her since their first meeting. A smug smirk lifted at the corner of his lips when he began to undo the laces of his trousers, and Emma realized she was still watching him with herself completely exposed to his view as well.

Spinning around so only her bared back faced him, she asked, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Joining you for a bath," he answered, as if such a thing were commonplace between them. "Would you deny a man a good soaking to ease the stiffness set upon him by a hard day's work?"

Flicking a furtive gaze over her shoulder when she heard him enter the pool, her eyes took in the rest of his exposed form and she couldn't help but quip, "I don't think a bath alone is going to ease that sort of stiffness."

He chuckled heartily at her unexpected comment, clearly taken aback by her frank and somewhat tawdry statement.

"Aye," he purred, sinking down into the warm waters and pressing his back against hers as he settled himself. "That will definitely take more than a good soaking in a hot bath to relieve itself, unless, of course, the wet heat required comes from a different source."

Emma's breath hitched, the flesh of her back sliding against his. Its marred surface pushed the brazen innuendo from her mind, replaced by questions of how his skin had become so ravaged by scars. Before she could utter any of those inquiries, Killian's demeanor shifted.

Perhaps taking her silence as a chastisement of his comment, he muttered, "If you do not wish me here, Swan, I will leave. Say the word, and you can continue your bath in peace." He paused, and though they were still faced in opposite directions, she could practically see the taunting raise of his brow when he accused, "Even if you are the one who intruded."

"I intruded?" she shot back, water sloshing around her as she turned halfway before remembering her modesty. "I believe you are the one who entered uninvited."

"Since when does a man need an invitation to partake in the bath he drew for himself in his own home?"

"You… You drew this bath? For yourself?"

"Of course," he asserted in a tone of ridicule, underlined with a measure of humor. "I conjured it the moment I arrived back. Did you think the bath magically filled itself each night on the off chance someone might wish to partake of it?"

Emma flushed with prickles of mortification. She hadn't even considered how the bath had been prepared, had simply thought herself fortunate to come upon it when she had.

"I… I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't think." Pushing off from him, she headed towards the side of the pool. "I should be the one to go."

"No, wait," he called out, reaching around and grasping onto her arm before she could exit the luxuriant waters. Their eyes locked when the action spun her, their bodies close enough to touch with some invisible force keeping them a hair's breadth apart.

"Don't go," he whispered in a hushed tone that was half command, half plea. His eyes dropped to where his hand still had a hold of her arm, then slid back up to meet her returning gaze - for it had followed his - as he released her. "I promise, I won't touch you again unless you wish it. The only pleasure I seek this evening is that of your company."

Backing away, his eyes held firm to hers. Though he could have had his fill, devouring her nude form with that piercing, forget-me-not gaze of his, he did not allow it to linger elsewhere. Instead, he waited, letting her partake in the feast of his flesh when it was her eyes that broke away from the contact.

Steam had caused either perspiration or condensate to pool in the hollow of his throat, and the same moisture beaded over the coarse hair of his chest. Wilted from the heat infusing the marble lined room, his hair no longer stuck out at odd angles in its typical windswept fashion, the fringe in front hanging down over his forehead and nearly obscuring his brows. His cheeks were flushed, his lips full and slightly parted with a faint glimpse of his tongue peeking out from between his teeth.

A rogue droplet slid down the line of his left arm, and it was then she realized he had shed his hook's harness and brace along with his garments. The blunted end of his wrist was concealed below the line of the bath lapping at his waist, and she fought to keep her perusal from sinking lower, her eyes swiftly skimming past the stiffness bobbing at the surface between his legs. When she reached his other arm, his hand leisurely gliding through the water as his fingers teased the ripples, she spotted the vibrant ink she'd glimpsed when he'd stopped her from leaving.

Before she could think better of it, she blurted out, "Who's Milah?"

He froze, and his eyes flashed with a mixture of alarm, anger, and astonishment.

"How did you-"

"Your tattoo," she indicated with a jut of her chin.

His eyes fell to his forearm and his fist clenched before sinking below the surface of the water. "Someone from long ago," he gruffed, his eyes still cast downward.

Until she asked, "Was she the woman you loved? The one you killed the last Dark One for in order to avenge her?"

"Where did you hear that?" he demanded, clearly astounded by her knowledge and audacity.

Gliding a bit closer, she positioned her knees beneath her and sat back on her heels, paying no mind to the fact her breasts remained exposed when his gaze slipped down to their rosy tips, hardening from the marginally cooler temperature of the air and the heat of his appreciative stare.

"Mr. Smee came by today," she told him, calling his attention back to her face.

"Smee?" he replied with a faint hint of fondness. "Bloody hell, has it been a year already?" he asked himself, running his hand through his hair and leaving grooves from his wet fingers. "He told you of our deal, I take it?"

Based on his exasperated tone and knowing expression, Emma knew it wasn't really a question, but she nodded in response anyway.

"I'll have to find him at the docks tomorrow," he mused. "So I can uphold my end of things… and give him a sound lashing for allowing a pretty face to loosen his tongue so treasonously," he added with a suppressed smirk.

"Don't be too hard on him," Emma interceded. "I think my presence caught him off guard. He was rather surprised to learn I was here because of a deal."

Killian hummed, pensively. "And did you tell him the nature of that deal?"

"Yes."

His brows shot up his forehead. "You did? What did he say?"

Not wanting him to discover her motives for disclosing the information to Smee in the first place, Emma changed course. "Why haven't you made more deals with people since becoming the Dark One? Smee seemed to think I was only the second one you've made."

Reluctantly, he confessed, "Aye. You are."

"Why?"

"Because deals are a nuisance," he responded flippantly, lounging back onto an elbow while appraising her with a sinful sweep of his eyes and equally wicked swipe of his tongue over his lips. "Present one excluded."

Emma mirrored his body, stretching her legs out next to his and reclining back on her forearms, submerging her breasts beneath the water line. Which promptly began to recede until they were visible once more. Emma cocked her head at his cheeky expression and twitching brows, giving him a withering look that seemed to have no effect on him.

"Can't blame a man for enjoying the view," he shrugged, unashamedly. "Especially when touching is off the table."

"You're the one who served up that particular stipulation," she reminded him.

It was his turn to cock his head to one side, straightening back up and leaning forward slightly as he inquired in a husky tone, "Are you offering more than the view, love?"

Emma smirked and coyly flicked her lashes at him. "Maybe I'll permit a goodnight kiss, if…"

"If?"

When had he gotten so close? He was practically on top of her, yet not an inch of his flesh was pressed against her own. His lips hovered over her mouth, cool droplets from his hair slipping from their strands onto her shoulders and chest.

"If," she breathed, her exhale bouncing back at her off his mouth. "You tell me more about your life on the sea, and agree to take me with you to the docks tomorrow."

One of his brows rose and his tongue pressed the back of his teeth as he considered her request. "Very well," he agreed, backing away with that sensual grace he had about him, and resuming his reclined position from before. "What would you like to know?"

Emma sat up and wet her lips, noting how the action made his eyes darken and a primal sort of sound rumble in his chest. "Smee said you had a ship. The Jolly Roger. How did you acquire her?"

A grimace constricted his face before he could school his features, and Emma was about to retract her question when he replied, "I served on her when I was in the Royal Navy. Though, she was christened the Jewel of the Realm back then. I… commandeered and renamed her after turning pirate against my king."

"What made you turn pirate?"

The muscle at his jaw flickered and he heaved out a heavy exhale as he sat up. "The death of my captain. My brother."

Emma's heart clenched painfully. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he replied, a false tone lacing his words that might lend credence to the idea he was no longer affected by the event. "It was long ago."

Swallowing nervously, hoping to get him back into a more amiable mood, Emma drew her knees up to her chest and pressed her breasts to the backs of her thighs, plumping her cleavage before inquiring with a saucy tone, "So which do you prefer? Naval service or a pirate's life?"

A wide grin stretched across his face, the gloom of the previous moment dissipating into the ether, as he professed, "A pirate's life. It's forever."

The wink he applied to give emphasis to his declaration pulled a giggle from her, softening his features.

"You should laugh more," he told her. Though, based on the quick flicker of surprise that had him averting his gaze from hers, she wondered if he'd meant to say such a thing out loud.

"So should you," she encouraged softly, reaching out to brush the fringe off his forehead.

His eyes darted back up to hers, his lips parting and sticking in their corners before a pointed smirk and tandemly raised brow accused, "I thought we agreed to no touching, love?"

"No," she drawled, with a slow shake of her head, her fingers trailing down the side of his face. "You agreed."

Another rugged chuckle rolled through his chest, and he changed the angle of his head so her fingertips brushed over his lips, his tongue slipping out to wet them as they passed. Emma narrowed her eyes at him, her expression undeniably calling him a cheat.

"Pirate, love," he cheeked, unabashedly with a swirl of want further darkening his eyes as they narrowed onto hers.

Pulling her hand away, her breaths coming a bit shallower than they had before, Emma quipped, "I'm sure you've done your fair share of pillaging and plundering, huh?"

"Aye," he rasped, raising up to his knees so she had to crane her neck to keep hold of his gaze. "I would not be opposed to a bit of pillaging and plundering right now." Lowering his lips, he declared, "So, I'll be taking that goodnight kiss, if you please."

Emma scooted back, her eyes beseeching him to follow while her retreat said, not yet.

"Does this mean, you'll take me with you tomorrow?"

"Aye," he promised with a slow, predatory advance.

Her back hit the side of the bathing pool. His hand and blunted wrist came up to rest on either side of her, caging her between his arms, yet he still, somehow, had not touched her.

"Just a kiss," she reminded him. Her eyes dropped to his lips, waiting for hers to meet him halfway.

"On my honor," he vowed. "Just a kiss."

She'd been certain that once their lips met the kiss would be as intense as it had been the night before. Lusty and desperate. However, though this one was no less hungry in its undertones, the slide of his mouth was more reverent than she'd been expecting. Soft nips to her bottom lip preceded the request of his tongue to engage with her own, its hot thrust past her teeth drawing a wanton sound from the back of her throat.

And still, maddeningly, no other part of his body grazed her own.

His teeth teased her earlobe, allowing her to gasp in a much needed breath before chastising, "Just a kiss, remember?"

"Aye, love," he replied in an acquiescing tone. "A goodnight kiss over your entire body."

Her neck broke out in a ripple of goosebumps as his tongue slid down it, lapping up the errant droplets that clung to her throat. "I'll keep to my word, don't you worry," he murmured over her collarbone. "Unless you give me leave, no part of me, other than what I would use to kiss you, will touch your body. Agreed?"

When she didn't answer, too overwhelmed by the prospect of how far he could take a mere kiss, he raised his head back up and brushed another across her lips. "Say yes, Swan," he whispered. "I've been craving the taste of you all day."

She answered with the press of her mouth, her teeth taking hold of his bottom lip and sucking it gently, forcing a growl to rise up within his chest.

Scorching trails of his lips and tongue blazed along her skin. Her back arched off the side of the pool when his mouth latched onto her breast, laving her nipple until it stood upright. Then, pulling it between his teeth, he flicked it relentlessly with his tongue. Each pulsating action echoed as a throb between her thighs, and by the time he was finished with her other breast she was desperate for something to take away the ache.

When his lips reached the flesh just above the surface of the water, she automatically rose up out of the bath so he could proceed further down her body. His tongue swirled over her belly then dipped into her belly button, causing her head to fall back and her breath to stutter. When his teeth grazed over her hip bone, her legs instinctively clamped together.

"I told you, Swan," Killian rasped, his eyes cast upward so his gaze ran the length of her body until locking onto hers. "I wish to kiss you everywhere. If you wish that too… then hop up onto the edge of the pool, and open your thighs for me, love."

Without taking her eyes from his, she shimmied onto the edge of the bath and began to spread her legs. A wide, feral grin split his face as he moved forward to fill the space between her thighs.

"Good girl," he praised, before dipping his tongue into her center and dragging it through her sopping folds, wet from both the bath and her own arousal.

Emma cried out and collapsed back onto her forearms, one hand shooting out to grasp the hair of his head as he feasted on her. She nearly left the floor when his tongue flicked over the puckered ring at the back of her intimacy before gliding it back through her slit and swirling it around the bundle of nerves he'd teased with his hand the night before. A vibration of hums quivered off his lips, causing her thighs to tremble as the familiar coiling of impending ecstasy built at the base of her spine, intensifying with every flick and flutter of his wicked tongue and the scrape of his perfect teeth. The fine hairs of her body stood at attention, her blood roared in her ears, and a moan, so guttural she never would have believed it came from her, erupted from her chest when her climax was reached with white hot flashes searing her nerve endings and stars exploding behind her eyelids.

It took several moments for her to pinpoint the sound keeping time with her stuttering pants. Vigorous splashes combined with a slapping of skin, and groans, not of her own making, filled the room. Lifting her head, Emma glanced down the length of her body, still trembling from the force of her release, and watched as Killian worked to bring about his own as the waters of their bath receded around him.

Transfixed at how furiously his hand pumped along the length of his cock, Emma pressed her thighs together, seeking a bit of friction that might help alleviate the fresh ache her renewed desire had placed there. His vocalized breaths grew more desperate, the cords of his neck taut and straining from the angle of his head, thrown back in an almost pained response until his hips jerked and the tension in his face released. Thick, white emissions exploded from the end of his length, shooting across his chest and abdomen while his hand continued to stroke his cock, teasing every last bit of pleasure from the member.

When his hand finally stilled, his eyes fluttered open and immediately found hers. She could only imagine the expression awaiting him on her face.

"Something the matter, love?" he panted, his chest heaving from his exertions.

"You… you didn't want to… you know. With me?"

His brows lifted and he ran his tongue over his lips. Her cheeks flared when he let go an appreciative moan at the taste of her still lingering upon them. "Is that an invitation?" he inquired, slowly sitting up from where he'd collapsed back. "If so, then give me a few minutes and I'd be more than happy to-"

She bolted upright and closed her legs, an action he clearly did not approve of. "No! No, I just…" She swallowed thickly and marveled, "You kept your word."

His teeth shifted, his jaw ticking to one side before he questioned, "Does that surprise you?"

"Well, you are the Dark One," she teased, "and you were a pirate before that."

"Aye. That I am." His tone was not what she had meant to produce from him with her harmless jibe. Instead of his usual bravado and swagger, his demeanor turned brooding and pensive.

"Before that, though," he whispered, as though to himself. "I was something else."

"What's that?"

His eyes, swimming with enough remorse and self-hatred, they could have refilled the bathing pool, looked up at her without really seeing her. "A man of honor," he professed, wistfully. "A man who believed in good form."

"Killian?" Emma called out to him, gently. "Are you alright?"

Shaking himself from the stupor that had overcome him, Killian's eyes cleared and darted to hers. He opened his mouth, attempting to form words, but after a moment he snapped it shut and raised his hand. Flicking his wrist, he vanished in a vapor of crimson.