First of all - thank you to those who were so patient and still stayed with me... this was a really long chapter, and well, I prefer quality over rushing things, and so does my wonderful editor. So, let's see where we left.
After a slightly uncomfortable afternoon at the sheriff's station spent with David, Emma dn hook have returned to Granny's for dinner that quickly ended when the Captain suggested they have their dessert upstairs.
Chapter 6:
Lots Of Little Hugs
When Emma saw that Hook was finally following her, she left the diner through its back entrance and turned toward the stairs, blinking to adjust her eyes to the dimly lit corridor. Although she almost felt the urge to run, she walked up the flight of stairs leading to his room with a stubborn sort of deliberateness, slightly annoyed that he hadn't shown really that much impatience and that she, on the other hand, had probably given away far too much. In fact, she felt mortified, thinking she'd almost stuttered when asking Ruby for the bill. Some of her ire faded, though, as she heard his boot heels following her closely up the narrow staircase.
When she reached the door to his room, she turned to face him but didn't meet his eyes, trying to keep her level of anticipation from showing. "Do you have the..."
...key, she wanted to say, but never got to finish her sentence, because the moment she faced him, his hot, demanding lips were already on her mouth, taking her completely by surprise. Out of the blue, she found herself pinned against the wall of the corridor beside the door, wrapped in a tight, breathtaking embrace. Looks like he isn't that patient after all, she thought before literally all her lights went out, and she was just guided by raw, primal instincts. The only sounds that could be heard were their heavy breathing and the dry rustle of his coat's long folds as she grasped its lapels, her purse and coat dangling from her arm, trying to steady herself. Although she was trapped between Hook's strong body and the wall, she still had the strange sensation that she would sink to the floor if she didn't hold herself up somehow.
Clinging to his coat, she returned his feverish kiss with an equal amount of hunger – a hunger she had been suppressing the entire day. This kiss was a role-reversal of their kiss in Neverland; only this time, he was the aggressor, claiming all of her, not just her mouth, with fierce determination. His hooked arm went around her waist, the rigid metal pressing on the small of her back, pulling her lower body firmly into his. And now, when he relentlessly ground his hips into hers, she could clearly feel how not patient he really was, and that made her feel even weaker. Her shoulders were pressed against the wall, and his thumb and index finger held both sides of her jaw while the other three fingers were spread over the left side of her throat. It was like he wanted to devour her, and she knew he'd suppressed his desire throughout the day as much as she had.
After what seemed an eternity, he pulled back, gasping for breath, and instinctively her lips followed his, trying to claim him back.
"Swan," he growled low in his throat and ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip, "inside..." Alright, so he wasn't really capable of forming coherent phrases either, good.
As she nodded, his hand let go of her face, and he fished hastily in his pocket for the key. This time, unlike the night before, he managed to unlock the door in record time, his hooked arm still wrapped around her waist. Emma had no intention whatsoever of loosening her grasp on his lapels, and they stumbled more than walked into the room.
Hook felt a little guilty for losing control and shamelessly assailing her outside the privacy of his room where somebody could have seen them; that wasn't exactly the good form he believed in, but he'd been literally overwhelmed by the sight of her walking up the stairs, swaying her hips in that tight, short skirt. Modern day clothes were still a mystery to him; the ladies in this realm tended very much to bundle up to the chin with voluminous scarves and high-necked tops, and he admitted that he did miss seeing a nice saucy corset every once in a while – but they obviously liked to show off their legs and derrières in tight pants and skirts that barely covered them. He surely wasn't complaining about that. Still, he didn't want his Swan to think that he normally wasn't able to control himself.
But somehow, she didn't really seem to mind, given by the way she was still hanging onto the lapels of his coat, her face barely inches from his, her eyes glittering with the same lust burning through his veins, pupils dilated and fixed on his mouth and her lips slightly parted. He threw the keys on the chair beside the door and they fell to the floor with a clattering sound. She let her purse and her trench carelessly drop right beside them.
"Swan, I must apologize..." he started, but was abruptly cut off as Emma gave him an unexpected push onto the chest which made him stumble backwards against the door.
"Don't," she whispered breathlessly against his lips before she kissed him again, leaning the whole length of her body into his, her soft contours molding perfectly into his hard ones. If he was already struggling to control his impatience before, she was completely losing control of hers now – greedily devouring him with all she had, her lips, tongue and teeth taking possession of his mouth in a wild and frenzied way that made his head spin. She didn't take the time to undo the clasps of his vest this time, but her fingers felt for the few visible buttons of his shirt and hastily opened them. Her fingertips brushed over his skin like the wings of a butterfly and her nails grazed through his abundant chest hair, causing him to moan against her mouth.
"I missed you," she panted, "I've been wanting to do this all day..." And she almost lunged forward, pressing her burning mouth against his madly throbbing jugular vein, nipping, licking and kissing her way down from his collarbone along his chest where she buried her face for a moment between his pecs, eyes closed, smiling against his skin, and deeply inhaling his intoxicating scent that was particularly intense on that special spot on his sternum, directly above his heart.
"Don't hold back by any means..." he managed in a husky voice while her mouth traveled all the way up again, sucking his right earlobe between her lips, his earring making a clicking sound against her teeth. His head was thrown back in momentary surrender, resting against the wood of the door, and he just allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of his Swan passionately but nonetheless very softly kissing her way back to his mouth along his scruffy jaw. Before she reached his lips again, he felt her hands wander down over the leather front of his vest, but again, she wasn't bothering with the metal clasps – her fingers had another destination.
Hook heard a sharp intake of breath when he felt her fingers pull on the leather laces of his pants and realized that it was he himself who had made that noise. Somehow, this time Emma's instincts seemed to lead her right, because he felt the – once again uncomfortable – restraints of his pants yield as soon as she'd managed to loosen the laces. Bloody hell, he thought, the lass is wasting no time.
"I need you, Killian," she breathed against his mouth while her hands were relentlessly tugging at his pants, "I need you to take me..."
The choice of her words and the urge in her voice almost drove him insane, and he knew it was time to take over the lead again. He put his hand and his hook at her hips, grabbing her firmly, and in one swift move turned them both around, like they were dancing some elaborate quadrille, her back pushed against the door now. The sudden move had her gasp in pleased surprise, and while her hands were still fumbling at the slowly descending waist of his pants, her back arched forward automatically.
He ran his hook from her right hip up to her shoulder and touched the cool metal carefully to her face, running it slowly along her jaw line to the tip of her chin, tilting her face up a little. Her green eyes were sparkling with eager anticipation and her lips slightly parted, their corners curved into a sultry smile. He brought his mouth close to hers and brushed his lips just so over hers, barely touching them, and purred: "If the lady insists..."
It was Emma's turn to gasp now as he let the sharp tip of his metal attachment wander down her throat to the first button of her blouse. Her wide-eyed gaze followed, and when the tip of the hook disappeared underneath the fabric, she looked up into his eyes again. She read the question there and nodded, and with a brusque downward move of his hook, he opened the blouse. Surprisingly, the delicate fabric wasn't torn, but every single button sprang away and landed on the wooden floor with a soft clicking sound.
Hook leaned forward to kiss her, not just tease but really kiss her this time, his hand traveling up over her left side, causing her bare skin to break out into goose bumps, cupping the side of her left breast, his thumb stroking over the erect peak through the lacy material of her mysterious bodice. At the same time, his hook went behind her back again, pulling her lower half close into him, grinding his hips into hers, making her feel the amount of his own unmistakable arousal. She started to make incoherent, whimpering sounds deep in her throat.
Keeping his demanding mouth affixed to hers, Hook reached down and slipped the curve of his lethal metal attachment under the hem of her skirt on the right while his fingers did the same on the left. With almost devilish delight at the way her eyes widened, he hiked the garment up until it was crumpled around her hips. He kissed his way from her mouth to the side of her throat while his hand wandered upward along the inside of her thigh. His searching fingers couldn't wait to reach the edge of her hosiery where they would touch her creamy flesh... but somehow, that point didn't come, and he thought damn, these stockings are really high! Then, suddenly, he heard Emma sigh when his hand reached the place where her thighs were joined – and where he should have felt silk and lace covering her most intimate spot. But all he felt was the elastic material of those damned stockings or pants, or whatever they were.
Hook froze in mid-movement. "What in blazes is this?" he growled, and Emma couldn't help but chuckle softly, despite her hot and bothered state.
"It's called pantyhose," she whispered a little breathlessly, "it is..."
"It was," he replied almost gruffly, and the irritating layer of fabric was gone with a tearing sound, not standing a chance against his strong fingers paired with the sharp tip of the hook. As a reaction, Emma drew in a sharp breath and let out a shaky sigh.
Finally, his searching fingers landed on soft, warm flesh and furthermore on lace-trimmed silk. He noticed with a bit of admiration that the sheer material was damp already, the rich evidence of her arousal seeping through; her most intimate spot emanating an incredible heat. In a possessive gesture, he cupped her pubic mound firmly with the entire palm of his hand, putting the sweetest pressure on her core where she ached for him the most, grazing his ringed thumb over the delicate skin of her groin. She whimpered and the sound was like lightning to his own lust. "Oh, Emma," he rasped into her ear, "so ready for me..."
She arched her back even more, pushing against his warm hand in an almost desperate attempt to intensify the contact. "I've been ready all day," she panted, "please... don't make me wait..."
Almost as if they had a will of their own, her legs spread wider and her hips rolled against his, and there was no other way to get rid of the last barrier between their bodies than to use his hook again. Her panties surrendered with only the barest protest, tearing like tissue paper as he ripped them apart; this time, a moan that came from deep within her chest rewarded him. His own pants had – with her help – descended low enough by now to release his own aching flesh, and there was no point in waiting any longer. The hook reached for Emma's right leg and lifted it up, placing it firmly around his waist. She surprised him by eagerly wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and literally jumping him, enclosing his middle with her other leg, too, so that she was completely hanging onto his body now, steadied only by the wood of the door at her back and his strong arms encircling her tightly with his hand and hook supporting her derriere. Her face was flushed with her arousal and carried a wonderful carefree, happy and ecstatic smile that simply made him soar. The sudden weight made him stumble a little, but the door backed her up, and out of nowhere, a thought flew through his mind: I've carried rum barrels heavier than you...
The hot, impatient tip of his erection found her slick entrance easily, but he invaded her achingly slowly… thoroughly, inch by inch, reveling in her moans, until he felt her fingers pull his hair almost painfully. "I said don't make me wait," she breathed into his ear; "enough with the teasing."
He focused on her face and saw so much hunger, passion and, yes, love there – and part of him still couldn't believe that this was all for him, and only for him. Suddenly, he understood that he hadn't spent the last three hundred years seeking his vengeance; he'd spent them waiting for this woman. And to hold her in his arms now, close to his heart and body and soul, to see all the adoration and devotion she reciprocated, made every single year of the restlessness, loneliness and pain worth it. Not one moment had been wasted – they'd all been destined to lead him exactly where he was now, and everything had fallen into place.
"Killian?" Emma inquired softly, breathlessly, and he realized that he had completely stopped moving.
He smiled and nodded. "No teasing," he replied hoarsely and with one sharp, forceful push of his hips buried himself deeply inside her. Her eyes widened and she gasped, entangling her fingers even more in his hair, while he finally started to move steadily and fast, in and out, pinning her firmer to the door with each thrust. She had her ankles crossed behind his back and used her own muscles to adjust to his rhythm, pushing forward every time he did, seeking to intensify the contact with every move. Their pace was wild and frenzied now, their gasps grew louder, and she let out a little cry every time he pushed into her.
Her head was light and dizzy, and it felt almost like she was drunk, like the room was spinning around and around. Of course, the fact that her feet didn't touch the ground added to that incredible elated feeling. She faintly noticed the hard wood of the door pressing into her back, but it didn't bother her at all. The dominating feeling was the overwhelming sensation of pure bliss she hadn't experienced before in her life, until Killian Jones had made love to her for the first time the previous night – and that was exactly what he was doing now. In spite of the fact that they were both almost fully clothed – hell, he was even still wearing his coat! – , in spite of the fact that he'd torn her pantyhose to pieces and ripped off her underwear and had pinned her heatedly and forcefully against a door, relentlessly pounding into her... in spite of all that, they were really and truly making love. She closed her eyes and once more surrendered completely to the sensation.
When Hook felt her starting to tremble around him, he lunged forward and brought his mouth onto hers, muffling her cry with a deep kiss, before his body went all rigid when he tumbled into his own orgasm.
For a few moments, they stood still as they were, leaned against the door. Emma's arms and legs were still wrapped tightly around him, his arms still carrying her weight, until he felt the strained muscles of his own thighs vibrate in protest. She noticed his slight shifting and disentangled her feet behind his back, slowly bringing them back to the floor again. He steadied himself with his hand against the door, and she held on to his lapels, not so sure of her own legs yet. Finally, he brushed her temple with his lips, reached down and tugged at the hem of her skirt until it slid down again to cover her hips, before he loosely pulled up his pants just enough to render them decent again. The little gesture, unnecessary as it was, was unspeakably endearing, and Emma heard his voice in her head: I'm always a gentleman...
Their eyes met and they both grinned in mutual understanding. He used his hook to fidget with her hair and teased: "Well, that was a little unexpected..."
She slapped his shoulder. "Unexpected?!" she exclaimed in fake indignation. "You came at me like a pirate!"
He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in mockery. "Really, Swan?" he drawled. "You are trying to declare me the miscreant now?"
Emma spread her arms, dramatically showing off her buttonless blouse, then pointed down to her shredded pantyhose. "Well, what do I look like?"
He smirked and motioned his hand at her, rolling his wicked tongue through his mouth. "Well, if you ask me – you look like a wanton wench who has just been thoroughly..."
"Shut up!" she snapped, but her eyes were sparkling with tease. "I look like I fell into the hands of a pirate!"
"Hand, darling," he corrected and waved his fingers like he was playing a flute, "and hook." He raised said attachment and waved it, too. Then he shrugged off his coat and hung it on the cloak hanger in the corner.
She stepped out of her pumps. "As I said, you'd look for any excuse to use that thing." Under Hook's shameless, appreciative stare she started to peel off the remnants of her pantyhose from her legs.
"Which thing?" he asked suggestively, and when she shot him a fiery glance he raised his hook and tilted his head, pulling his puppy face. "This one? My sincere apologies, lass, but may I remind you that you asked for it?" His mouth curved into his trademark grin while he plucked imaginary lint off of the hook's sharp tip. "Some would even say... begged."
Hook unbuckled his belt, threw it on the chair and started to unfasten the clasps of his vest, not taking his burning eyes off of her for a second. When he'd undone the last clasp and shrugged the vest off, it reminded Emma very much of the smug posture his past self had assumed in that tavern back in the Enchanted Forest. Her memory misted across her thoughts, seeing Captain Hook rise from the bench, spread his arms, puff out his chest in that damned red vest and push his hips slightly forward. His nonchalant voice rang in her ears: Come back with me for a nightcap, or shall I find someone else? The underlying message had been just as clear as if he'd added it out loud: ...but take a good look at what you're missing out on. That smug bastard. Now he was doing a similar thing – showing off. He was hot as the hinges of hell, and he damn well knew it.
Emma withstood his stare, threw him the best imitation of her well-perfected I'm-so-done-with-your-shit-glance and told him: "You're a little too smug for my taste." And with an elegant move of her wrist and wave of her hand, his hook was gone, leaving only the empty leather sheath peeking out of the loose sleeve of his back linen shirt. He gasped in surprise, and with an adorably cheeky little grin she showed him the gleaming metal of the hook that had magically appeared in her own right hand.
"Bloody hell, Swan," he growled, but the amusement in his voice was clearly detectable. "I already told you it's bad form to tamper with a man's hook." He raised his eyebrows. "Isn't it sufficient that you already tamper with my..." – quickly, his tongue darted out to moisten his lips – "...other attachment?" He pointedly looked down at his groin, and when her gaze automatically followed his, she saw that his pants, unlaced as they were, didn't look like they would stay up much longer. Dangerous. Promising. He took a step forward and stretched out his hand. "Now be a good lass and give that back," he demanded.
She grinned and shook her head. "No," she replied almost triumphantly.
Hook was absolutely thrilled by her attitude – not because what she was doing would sure as hell lead up to another amorous game; that was just an additional bonus. But the way she easily and naturally embraced her magic after fighting against it for so long, and now even used it in a playful way to make fun of him, simply blew him off of his feet. He huffed a little. "You're not being very mannerly, love," he told her. "Why are you doing this?"
Emma retreated a step, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Because I can."
Oh, she was being wicked now. This was getting better and better by the minute. He scratched behind his ear, sighed in a feigned disapproving way and shook his head, clicking his tongue. "You don't want to challenge me, Swan," he warned.
Her gaze was drawn to his face, and she was fascinated by the dangerous twinkle in his eyes and that dark promise of forbidden delights lurking in the upturned corners of his sinful mouth. She felt a wave of heat wash over her and raised her chin. "Looks like I just did, pirate."
She deliberately turned the hook around in both her hands, running her fingertips over the cool metal, almost caressing it. Without being aware of it, Emma licked her lips. She was surprised how heavy the hook was and amazed how smooth its polished surface felt despite its lethal potential, almost like silk; suddenly, she had to swallow a lump in her throat. She'd be damned if that infamous hook didn't remind her of his... other attachment. She blushed at the thought and quickly looked up at Hook again. He was quietly watching her with a devilish, knowing expression. Had he read on her face what she'd been thinking? Of course. Open book. She blushed a little more, but smiled.
"If you want it back," she said in a sultry tone, carefully touching her right thumb to the sharp tip of the hook, "you'll have to come and get it."
Hook tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "You were fairly warned." He started to stride towards her.
Emma took a few step backwards, but her little game was ended before it had begun because she didn't get far; she gasped in surprise when the back of her thighs thumped against a rigid edge and quickly looked over her shoulder. The small table beside the door had blocked her. When she turned around again, her pirate's twitching eyebrows and blue eyes were less than a foot away from hers. Her stomach started to flutter again.
"Trapped, are we?" he asked nonchalantly and cocked his head in his typical way. "And now? Are you going to use magic again or do you..." – he paused a moment to roll his tongue through his mouth – "... yield?"
"Neither," she replied and grinned. "For now, I just let you win." She handed him the hook, and he took it with a satisfied nod.
"Very prudent move, love," he drawled and put the gleaming metal into its place, twisting it into the right position, and somehow Emma couldn't take her eyes off of his face. When the hook made the sharp clicking sound indicating that it was fixed, he bore his shining eyes into hers again and grinned; it was an almost diabolic, yet infectious grin, accompanied by a fierce gleam in his eyes. She held her breath without being aware of it.
"And now?" she reciprocated his question in a deliberately casual tone, sounding a little breathless nonetheless. "What are you going to do?" Her eyes sparkled with the unspoken challenge.
Hook winked wickedly and leaned a little forward with his head bent to the side, whispering in her ear: "Why, my little siren, I hooked you, and now I'm going to reel you in."
And with that, he suddenly dove down in a swift move and caught her firmly around her thighs, lifting her up. Emma let out a surprised little cry when she lost her balance and was thrown over his shoulder. "Hook! What are you doing?!"
He carried her over to the bed like a sack of potatoes and, God help him, Emma tough-lass Swan squealed and giggled along with feigned protest; it was the most wonderful sound he'd heard in centuries, and he happily laughed along with her. They tumbled down on the bed together with him landing atop her, the mattress screeching in protest at the sudden weight.
"You are incredible!" she gasped and laughed again.
"Aye, so I've been told," he commented smoothly and smiled down at her, shaking his head with a hint of incredulity before he added: "That's even better than your smile."
"What, that you finally got me where you wanted me?" She ran a playful finger along his scruffy jaw. "In your bed, on my back?"
He shook his head with a serious, quiet little smile. "I meant your laughter. I've never heard it before." For a few seconds, time seemed to stand still as his words hung in the air between them and their meaning sank in. Emma looked completely dumbfounded, taken aback by his sincere display of affection – by his reveling in her laughter. And the way he pronounced that word did really funny things to her stomach. She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but it seemed like her mind was blank all of a sudden.
Hook noticed, of course; he knew what was up with her. His Swan still had to get used to receiving compliments like that one – stripped bare of any superficial overtones and flippancy – to be loved simply for who she was. Quickly, to lighten the moment, he smirked and added with deliberate lewdness in his voice: "I must say, having you in my bed is a nice additional guerdon." His tongue quickly darted over his bottom lip. "Whether it's on your back or on top of me isn't really of further importance."
Emma looked up at him with a very small, very touched smile and swallowed, entirely aware of the meaning of his words. He was right, again; she couldn't remember when she'd laughed out loud for the last time either, especially in such a carefree, child like manner, like nothing in the world mattered but that one, precious moment. And it had taken a sinister, three hundred year-old soul of a pirate to teach her to laugh again. His damn innuendos included.
"It feels wonderful," she murmured.
His eyes twinkled with affection. "To be had in my bed?" he teased. "It would appear so."
She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. He was indeed incredible. When she looked at him again, the earnest expression in his amazing eyes despite his flippant words took her breath away. "The laughter on my lips," she said. "I didn't even remember how good it feels." She paused for a second and added: "You put it back."
Now it was Hook's turn to look dumbfounded; not only had she accepted his compliment – had proven that she indeed could handle it – she had even felt safe enough to return it. He averted his eyes for a moment, smiled his embarrassed little don't-make-a-fuss-over-it smile and tilted his head. "Had I known it was that easy, I'd have carried you up that beanstalk like a sack of flour two years ago."
Always a joke at hand before it gets too serious, and always a precious little gem in the middle of his flippant talk. Emma knew she could count on him in every situation. She grabbed him by the front of his unbuttoned shirt and simply demanded: "Kiss me, pirate."
Hook chuckled in his throaty way, absolutely thrilled by her carefree attitude. He combed his hand through her slightly disheveled blonde waves and then did exactly what she asked. The kiss was intoxicating; the mix of passion and tenderness, of the velvety softness of his lips and the demanding, almost commanding urge of his tongue was enough to make her head spin and all her senses tingle.
His heavy chain fell out of the folds of his shirt, the huge silver dagger and the skull landing right between her breasts with a clattering sound. It added to the sensation that sizzled whenever their bare bodies came into contact – skin on skin, limbs entwined, sweat mingling – truly molded into one being so that no one would have been able to tell where one body ended and the other began.
Emma couldn't wait for that sensation, to feel his warm smooth skin under her hands again. She tugged at the hem of his shirt and he grasped her meaning without any further explanation. Very reluctantly, he broke the kiss, sat up for a moment and pulled the shirt over his head. While he was at it, he got rid of his boots, too; the pants he kept on for the moment. She smiled and grasped his broad shoulders, pulling him down again, but Hook rolled over and turned them around in a swift move so that she landed on top of him, her soft hair falling down, enclosing their faces like a silky curtain. She felt his warm hand on her back between her shoulder blades, his fingers playing over the clasp of her bra.
"Teach me how to undo that bodice, love," he demanded and raised his head to nuzzle his face into the nook of her throat, his hooked arm resting lightly at her right hip. "I can't feel any laces," he murmured against her skin, quickly grazing his teeth there.
Emma shivered against him for a moment and grinned. "Oh, you're gonna like this," she predicted and reached with her right hand behind her back, putting it on his. "It's fastened with very tiny hooks..."
His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Why, a bodice to my liking," he commented and fidgeted with the clasp.
She rolled her eyes at him and warned: "I'm just afraid it might be a little difficult to undo it with only one..."
With a little snap, the three tiny hooks were released, and her breasts fell forward to rest on his chest, bringing with them the shoulder straps of the garment. She stared at him with an open-mouthed expression while he smirked, hooked his hook into one of the loosened straps and pulled the bra slowly away until they were completely skin to skin, her sensitive peaks tickled softly by his chest hair. "You were saying?" he purred.
Emma's eyes, still incredulous, followed his gleaming hook from which her white lacy bra was now dangling until he let it drop to the floor. She looked back at him. "Really?!"
He took a strand of her hair and let it run through his ringed fingers. His eyebrows twitched with teasing when he tilted his head in a shrug and just said: "Pirate." Of course, he popped the 't'. She rolled her eyes again, and he added: "Doing away with shackles and bodices are two of the most indispensable qualities required for a pirate's life, love." The teasing sparkle in his eyes was challenging her.
"Funny," she replied a little grumpily and caught his wrist with her own hand. She had no interest in hearing how many bodices he'd done away with during the past three hundred years and was annoyed at herself for that absurd feeling of jealousy. "Let's see how you manage to handle a zipper." She pulled his caressing hand a bit roughly away from her hair and put it to her waist. Her short skirt had hiked up again around her hips.
Hook frowned. "Come again?" he asked in his clueless voice. She grinned and guided his fingers, and it was no surprise to her that he seemed to figure that one out pretty fast, too. Obviously, that man was a natural. With a triumphant smile, he tugged her skirt down inch by inch, leaving her completely naked now, as her panties lay already shredded on the floor. "Those modern garments do have their benefits," he commented and rolled his tongue through his mouth, "although I don't understand what's wrong with laces."
Emma rolled off of him and laughed, placing her right hand on his flat abdomen right below his bellybutton. "Nothing's wrong with laces," she purred and let her fingers sneak down to his already half-unlaced pants. "In fact, they're definitely growing on me." She tugged at the laces, loosening them a little more, wickedly and unnecessarily playing over his crotch in the process; it was already showing signs of life again, which she noticed with satisfaction.
"The laces are not what is growing, love," he replied dryly – which made her chuckle – and, with her help, got rid of the pants rather quickly.
"I can see that," she whispered and put her right hand where he longed to feel it, leaning into him for a long kiss. His hand went into her hair, combing through her long locks like he loved to do, messing them up. He reached out for her with his hooked arm, too; obviously with the intention to pull her on top of him again, but she gently pushed his hook away, brushing her fingers almost tenderly over the metal while doing so. He let it rest against her shoulder and protested faintly when she broke the kiss, lifting his head from the pillow, trying to catch her lips again with his.
"Easy, pirate," Emma chuckled and placed a very gentle bite on his chin which nevertheless had him gasp in surprise. Then she ran her lips across his throat, his scruff grazing her sensitive skin, and lingered for a few moments on his Adam's apple, playfully nipping there. Involuntarily, his fingers tightened their grasp and pressed into her scalp. She smiled against his skin when she felt him swallow hard and continued her journey over the side of his neck until she reached his collarbone. His skin was particularly soft and tender there. She caressed it with the tip of her nose and brushed a kiss on the little notch where his collarbones met. With a rough sigh, actually a quite primal sound, he let his head fall back on the pillow again.
While she buried her face in his chest, deeply inhaling his natural scent mingled with that faint trace of leather she'd come to associate with him, her hand continued to caress him, causing him to groan deeper in his throat. She enjoyed that almost guttural sound and the sensation of his hardness in the palm of her hand, it felt like satin-wrapped steel. The smooth, silky skin was warm, almost feverishly hot, and Emma couldn't get enough of touching it, feeling it, exploring it, handling it – something she hadn't had the chance to do so far. Tentatively, she wrapped her fingers closer around him, tightening her hold with determination; Hook's sharp intake of breath and the slight, involuntary upwards twitch of his hips showed her that he wasn't the only one who could play her body like an instrument. She started to move her hand slowly up and down over his whole length.
"Swan..." he murmured, his voice thick with urgency.
"Shhhh," she shushed him, "please, let me." And she kissed her way down his sternum, over his flat stomach, following his treasure trail, that fine line of silky black hair leading down from his bellybutton over his pubic bone to the greater prize.
"God, Emma," he moaned in a hoarse voice and lifted his left arm over his head, hooking the sharp metal over the edge of the headboard to ensure that he wouldn't make any involuntary moves with his dangerous attachment anywhere near her head. His ringed fingers were still entangled in her hair, and his blood was rushing like bumpy seas and breaking billows in his ears while that siren replaced her hand with her soft, hot mouth. He couldn't believe that this was actually happening; that Emma Swan had let her walls down to such a degree that she was initiating probably the most intimate caress a woman could regale a man with. He'd fantasized about this, dreamed of it many a time in the past, but he would never have expected those dreams to come true so soon, so early. This woman, his woman never ceased to amaze him, and she was doing things to him, making him feel things he would never have dared to dream of.
While her unspeakably tender, yet wicked lips closed firmly around him – slowly gliding down and taking him in deeply – her hands unleashed a different type of torturous contradiction; her left hand rested innocently on his forearm, fingertips lightly caressing his skin, but her right hand brazenly cupped his balls, making it nearly impossible for him to stay still. When she started to use her tongue on him in soft, lazy strokes amidst the sucking, nibbling and teasing, he couldn't help but respond to her. His hips seemed to have a will of their own. But it wasn't before he heard the tiny sighs she was making deep in her throat while showering him with her ministrations that he knew he couldn't handle it any longer. She was moving faster now, exercising more pressure on him, and he had the overwhelming urge to feel her, all of her. He tugged at her hair, only slightly at first, then a little firmer until her heavenly mouth finally released him.
She raised her head and almost frowned at him, her green eyes filled with doubt. "What?" she breathed.
He loosened his grasp on her hair and grabbed her shoulder instead, unhooking his hook from the headboard again and putting it to her other shoulder. "Come here, love," he panted in his husky voice, pulling her up to him again. "Kiss me."
Emma followed his pull and glided up along his body, but she was a little confused. Why had he interrupted her? Normally, she didn't care very much about pleasuring a man with her mouth, even if she wasn't disgusted by it either; mostly, when she'd done that in the past, she'd done it because it was simply part of the physical side of a relationship, whether it was a long-term one or just an affair. But this time, she hadn't thought about that at all, she'd just followed her instincts and gone with the flow. She'd done it because she'd felt the need to do it, because she'd wanted to savor him with all her senses… to taste him. She'd been surprised to find that giving that kind of pleasure could be an utterly sensual experience for her, too, when given to someone she really and truly loved. She'd hoped that feeling had transferred to him, which was why it confused her now that he'd stopped her from going all the way – which she'd definitely planned on doing. Maybe she wasn't as skilled as she'd thought?
But one glance into his unbelievable blue eyes was enough to show her that she didn't have any reasons to worry about that at all. He was looking at her with parted lips and some quiet kind of wonder in his eyes, and they were damn sure veiled with something rich and powerful – desire on the verge to explode. Suddenly, she felt confident again. With a truly bewitching smile, she hooked her right index and middle finger into his heavy silver chain and pulled him up from his prone position, bringing his face close to hers.
"What's wrong, Captain," she whispered seductively. "Can't handle it?"
Hook stared at her with open-mouthed fascination, totally mesmerized by her temptress attitude. She let go of his chain and did that wicked thing with his hook again, running the back of her hand along the metal from the base to its tip, then stroking back from the tip to the base again with her open palm. The gesture was unspeakably sensual; no, more than that – it was a blatantly sexual move. Of course, he couldn't feel anything she was doing to his hook, but it surely felt like she was doing it to his very flesh. Siren. But two could play this game, and his dice were always loaded.
He leaned in very closely so their noses were almost touching and purred back, "No, not only can I handle it, but I can even..." he paused for a moment to slowly run his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, "... master it."
Emma's eyes widened a little, the green depths swirling with eager anticipation and the thirst for more. He captured her mouth with his, kissing her with a fervor and urgency that pushed her from her half-sitting position down onto her back. He was leaning on his right elbow now. His left arm reached across her chest and his hook rested briefly on her right shoulder before he ran it slowly over her right breast, teasing its peak with the cold metal. A soft gasp escaped her; her back arched automatically and her nipple immediately responded to the touch in the most exquisite way. Hook grinned against her lips with devilish self-satisfaction.
"So..." he said almost casually, "you're a lass who takes delight in tampering with a man's hook?" He moved said attachment over her left breast, barely touching her skin this time, but nevertheless provoking the exact same reaction plus a sharp intake of breath and another arching of her back. He cocked his head and brought his lips to her ear. "What do you say about a man's hook tampering with you?" he purred.
Her mouth suddenly went so dry she could barely speak. "Wouldn't that be bad form?" she breathed.
He chuckled and moved the metal down over her flat stomach, letting it meander from side to side, making contact with her skin only every once in a while. By now, tiny goose pimples blossomed all over her body, telltale signs of her arousal. His tongue darted out and briefly flicked over her earlobe, causing her to moan and toss her head to the right, exposing the side of her throat to him in a silent plea for him to put his mouth there. But obviously, Hook didn't have the slightest intention of doing so.
Instead, he purred into her ear: "You tell me if it's bad or good, love..."
He let the hook crawl from her bellybutton along her hipbone, deliberately not going anywhere near where she ached for him the most. She was squirming now and obviously getting very impatient. If only he would at least kiss her...
"Hook..." she urged; it sounded almost like a plea.
"Aye, that's me," he replied in a smug, amused voice and ran the metal over the inside of her leg; when he approached her center though, he broke the skin contact again and noticed with delight how her thighs parted a little, seeking something… seeking him.
"Killian, please..." It was little more than a gasp.
"Easy, Swan," he mocked, mirroring her earlier teasing, barely able now though to hold back his own desire. He knew he wouldn't be able to control himself for much longer; she had more than fueled his desire before.
Emma's hands grasped the sheet in despair and her back arched again. "Oh God," she moaned, and it sounded almost like a sob. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Of course, she had walked right into that one. He smirked. "Why Swan, just because I can..."
She opened her eyes in an attempt to glare at him – which would've been much more impressive had her eyes not been that openly shimmering with pure, primal need. "You!" she panted. "You're such a..."
With a sudden move, Hook rolled on top of her, pushing her legs further open with his knees in an almost rogue-ish, no, pirate-ish demand for access that left no room for objection; not that she'd even thought of denying it to him.
"Enough with the tampering," he declared in a rough voice and shut her mouth with a fierce kiss to which she responded with a little sigh that expressed as much desire as relief, and with her whole body bucking up to finally meet his.
There was no chance to do this slowly or gently, they were both way too heated up by the previous reciprocal teasing; the time for playing was over. With one deep push, he entered her completely, and Emma more than welcomed his invasion. She captured him immediately with her legs, placing her heels at the back of his thighs and running her nails down his back, leaving crimson red marks and urging him to go faster, deeper, like she couldn't get enough of him. And that was exactly it; she just couldn't, and she didn't want to. Nothing was keeping her from demanding, from accepting, from taking what she'd been wanting for so long and what he so freely and eagerly offered. And offer he did. With every forceful thrust, he gave her what she craved, and even more. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled his head down to her, holding him still for just one fraction of a second to pierce her eyes into his – just long enough for him to see the unbound lust, joyful abandon and love in her eyes – before she pulled his mouth down to hers for a rough, feverish kiss that muffled both their cries when they tumbled over the edge together.
It seemed to take half an eternity before either of them were able to breathe normally again, let alone move so much as an inch; they just stayed like that for a while, his forehead resting on hers, and both of their eyes closed until they opened them almost simultaneously. Emma realized she had her hands still entangled in Hook's hair and released him with a smile, not without stealing another kiss first, more tenderly this time. Of course, that one was gladly granted, too.
Then he slid out of her and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him in the process. She followed eagerly and curled up at his side, snuggling up as closely as possible, not minding that they were both still covered in sweat, his body hair as damp as her blonde locks; in fact, she loved it. It was their very own thing, and she loved everything about it – especially the smell of them together swirling in the air. For several minutes, neither of them spoke, and they were reveling in the feeling of just being there, together. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since they'd made love for the first time, and yet already it felt like they belonged just like that.
Emma had been almost happily dozing off when Hook asked: "Are you going to stay?"
She frowned, a little confused by his question. Did he still think she was contemplating going back to New York? Didn't he see that she could never leave now, even if she wanted to? Didn't he understand by now what he meant to her? "I thought I made it clear that I'm staying," she replied with slight irritation in her voice. "Henry and I belong here. Storybrooke is our home." She paused for a moment and propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him, anxiously searching for a trace of doubt in his eyes. Maybe she had to make herself more clear to him? She drew a deep breath. "You..." ...are my home. She really wanted to add it.
"I meant tonight, Swan," he interrupted with a smile so light it mostly just danced in his eyes, barely reaching the corners of his beautiful mouth. He took one of her locks that were splayed out on his chest, and let it play through his fingers. "Are you staying here with me tonight?"
For a second, she felt like an idiot. Of course he didn't doubt her. He knew she loved him, even if she hadn't said it aloud yet. So maybe she'd been clear enough, but still... she returned his smile. "If you'll have me?" she replied almost a little shyly, putting an unmistakable question mark at the end.
He looked up at her incredulously, his mouth gaping open, understanding dawning from what her words, her tone, really meant and how big of a step she'd taken here again. She could have easily said "of course I'm staying", because that was obviously what he wanted, but here she was almost asking him to let her stay – she, Emma Swan, lost girl, painfully used to rejection. Hook swallowed twice and had to avert his eyes for a tiny moment, feeling beyond touched by that further display of vulnerability and trust at the same time. When he looked back into her eyes, the open, loving and trustful expression he found there simply blew him away. She knew he wouldn't reject her, but at the same time she was telling him that he mattered, too – don't hurt me, her eyes said, I know you never would, but you should know you could.
And again, Hook didn't want the moment to get too emotionally loaded and decided to play it light before she might start feeling uncomfortable. He tugged playfully at the strand of her that was still laced between his fingers and pursed his lips into a grin.
"Oh, I shall gladly have you over and over, love," he purred, "as many ways and times you want, but I wouldn't want to put you in an awkward situation with your parents. They might assume you..." – he touched his ringed index finger briefly to her nose – "... and I..."
Emma smiled and shook her head, perfectly aware of what he was doing, but playing along. "Oh, I'm sure they do, they are not stupid," she replied with a shrug. "But you saw David today. Not only didn't he use his gun on you, he practically acted like he was your wing man." She rolled her eyes when she remembered how her father had acted around her and her presumable pirate boyfriend that afternoon.
Hook chuckled. "Yes, I think I might be winning him over, indeed," he commented with a touch of self-satisfaction in his deep voice, then he tilted his head a little. "Alas... I'm not so sure yet about your mother."
Emma recalled the talk she'd had with Mary Margaret that morning. Her mother had surprised even her, but she decided to keep it to herself a little longer that the fierce Snow White had more than just made her peace with her daughter's unorthodox choice. "Don't worry about her," she told him. "You saw how she treated my father in the beginning." She grinned fondly and playfully nudged him. "The louder she barks at you, the more she likes you."
He smirked. "Like mother, like daughter..." he winked and licked his lips.
She rolled her eyes again. "How many times are you planning to use that line?" she growled.
He waved his hand through the air. "Why, it's a compliment, Swan," he pointed out. "I like strong women, and your mother is by God one of the toughest lasses I've ever met."
She tilted her head in disbelief. "You really like her, don't you?" she ascertained incredulously.
"Aye, and even more so since I've been privy to her most impressive bandit ways," he explained with a grin and added: "Thanks to that time portal we fell through."
Her gaze drifted away for a moment when she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that all these events had happened over the past few days. "Actually, we didn't fall through the portal, I did," she said slowly. "You jumped." She swallowed when she remembered the feeling of despair and abandon the moment Hook's sleeve had been torn with that awful sound and she'd lost her hold on him and had been sucked into that gaping, swirling hole in the ground of that barn. Fortunately, that terrible feeling had lasted only for a second or so, because she hadn't even properly hit the ground before realizing that she was not alone, that, of course, her ever-present shadow had followed her. She focused on him again and smiled. "Another occasion where you did not let me down."
"Yeah, well..." She was surprised to see that he averted his eyes, but not with his usual expression of embarrassment. There was a shadow flying over his handsome face. "I have a confession to make."
She lifted herself up into a sitting position and turned to him. "What's that?"
Hook propped himself up on his left elbow and raised his hand to her hair, but then he let it sink again without allowing himself to touch it. He wanted to be honest with her, and maybe she wouldn't take this too well; hell, he himself didn't take it too well. "If we hadn't fallen through the portal..." he began and paused to lick his lips, but it was a gesture of nervousness this time, "...if none of this had happened and I couldn't have convinced you to stay here instead of going back to New York..." his voice trailed off, his jaw clenched, and he looked away from her again, obviously at a loss for words, and that alone was extraordinary.
She bent forward, searching his gaze. "Killian?" she prompted softly.
Hearing his name from her lips brought him back to the present again. He focused on her, drew a deep breath and said: "I might have given up."
He fell silent and just looked at her, searching her face for a reaction to his words – words that were some sort of abandonment, even if it hadn't actually happened. But the words alone sounded like a betrayal... he just hoped they wouldn't harm her trust in him. But Emma surprised him with a very fragile, very rueful smile and shook her head slowly, but with determination. "No...you wouldn't have," she replied, and the utter conviction in her voice touched him beyond anything. "You wouldn't have given up on me. You never have."
He returned her smile and reached out for her again, this time going all the way to the back of her head, pulling her down for a slow and tender kiss, grateful for her trust in his consistency. She responded eagerly to the kiss, but when he pulled back he was surprised to see her green eyes brimming with unshed tears.
"What is it, love?" he asked with concern in his eyes.
"Do you remember when we said goodbye at the town line of Storybrooke, before Pan's curse came?" she asked.
Hook's jaw tightened again as the memory of the pain he'd tried to hide in that moment – to make it easier for her to leave – stabbed him in the heart with all its nasty force. He was amazed how much it still hurt. "I could never fail to remember that."
Emma nodded gravely. "When you said there wouldn't be a day that you wouldn't think of me... you know what hurt the most?" She looked at him openly, and he was almost shocked by the shadow of utter despair and hopelessness that was showing on her face when she recalled those moments. He didn't make a move or say a word; in fact, he barely breathed. She went on: "Not that I thought I might never see you again, but to know that I wouldn't even be able to miss you... because I wouldn't remember you." Her voice echoed in his head: you don't have a home until you just miss it... It hit him like a ton of bricks that she had wanted to miss him, even back then. That, perhaps unconsciously, she had regarded him as her home, even back then; something he would never have dared to hope, although her almost broken voice when she had replied "Good." could have told him otherwise. She shook her head angrily, a single tear rolling down her cheek now, her hands curling into fists. "That damn curse," she said tonelessly, "was going to take even that from me. Again, there was going to be nothing left but emptiness..." she drew a deep, shaky breath. "Not even the pain... of losing you," she finally added.
Her final words woke him from his momentary paralysis, and he sat bolt upright beside her, reaching out for her with his left arm and pulling her into a close embrace, cupping the back of her head with his hand. She wrapped her arms tightly around his torso, clinging onto him so strongly that he thought she might break his ribs, and by the way her shoulders trembled he could tell she was very close to crying. Nobody had ever asked how it had been for her to say goodbye to everybody except Henry. After he'd brought her back, she'd make such a big fuss over how good her life in New York had been, that in all his frustration about that he'd completely forgotten the desperate look and the tears in her eyes when they'd said goodbye – not even sharing as much as a hug. Perhaps there's a man that you love in the life that you've lost...
"I'm here now," he murmured into her hair in a soothing voice, caressing the back of her head. "I'm not going anywhere. Ever."
She closed her eyes and buried her face at the side of his neck where it fit so nicely, just letting him hold her and letting the pain and fear subside – simply washed away by his voice and his touch. Another layer of her shell quietly crumbled to pieces while all her agony faded away. "Promise?" she murmured in a thick voice, and she was twelve years old again: another first night in another new foster family, another silent prayer that this time, this time it would be the right place, the right people. She'd come a long way since then, but now she knew that this was the right place. Home. She tightened her embrace a little more, holding onto the man who'd saved her in more ways than one.
But Hook loosened his hold on her to place his hand and his hook on her shoulders, pushing her gently away from him so that he could look into her eyes. They were still a little veiled by the pain, but also full of hope. He smiled and put his hand to her cheek, wiping the single tear away with his thumb. "Promise."
Emma leaned her face into his palm and just looked at him, marveling for about the hundredth time that out of all the people in all the realms, someone like this man, a pirate and a scoundrel – or, dashing rapscallion, as he preferred – could have become her solid rock and safe harbor. She knew there was more to him than that, and she also knew she wanted to find out more, so much more about him… about his earlier life. Not that it really mattered; she loved him for who he was now.
He continued to caress her high cheekbone with his thumb and reveled in her expression. Her deep feelings were so open and obvious on her face for him to see that they spoke directly to his heart. Open book. She swallowed once, twice. Moistened her lips. Opened her mouth. Blinked. He waited.
"You can take off the hook now," she whispered a little unexpectedly. I love you, translated her eyes. He raised a questioning eyebrow, and she added: "There's no impending danger tonight, and I..." – she smiled – "I'll protect you."
He nodded slowly, with a slight smile. "I reckon I'm safe then." He smoothed out her hair with his hook and then turned a little away from her, putting his hand to the metal, starting to twist it off. But she surprised him by putting her hand on his arm, urging him to stop. He threw her a questioning glance.
"Let me see how you do it," she asked softly. For a second he frowned, not knowing what she was getting at. But the encouraging smile on her face made it dawn on him. She'd seen him and made love to him with and without the hook, but she'd never actually seen him take it off – the very vulnerable moment when he actually dropped that armor had never been her privilege to watch. I will protect you. She'd allowed him to see her walls go down, now it was time to reciprocate. She truly wanted all of him. He turned back to her again and tilted his head while making that swaying move with his hand that absolutely classified the minimalistic gesture as a bow.
"As you wish," he replied calmly, and like on earlier occasions when he'd said that to her, she averted her eyes, fixing them on the leather sheath that held his hook. Without hesitating any longer, he twisted the metal off and put it carefully on the nightstand. Then he raised his arm a little and let her look closely at the sheath before he slowly started to unclasp, unlace and undo the fixtures that connected it to his arm. Emma watched his hand intently, and Hook watched her watching him; her expression showed him that indeed she loved and wanted all of him – Hook and Killian Jones – and she didn't seem to differentiate between the two or try to find out where one ended and the other one began. She just accepted and took him exactly as he was.
Finally, he offered his left arm to her. "Here," he told her quietly, and she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. He nodded with a smile. "Go ahead, Swan. It's all loosened. Just remove it."
She raised both hands to the leather, carefully brushed her fingertips over it and hesitated. "Don't be shy, love," he encouraged with a smile. "There." He put his hand over her right and guided it to the strategically right point of the sheath, "and here." He did the same with her left hand. "It's yours."
Emma drew a deep breath and pulled; she was surprised how easily the sheath came off and handed it to him. He put it on the nightstand beside the hook and turned to her again. Briefly, she let her fingertips wander over the skin of his now exposed left forearm, following the light red pressure marks the rigid leather had left. Beautifully flawed, like the rest of him. She gazed up at his face again, and he tilted his head with a meaningful little grin, slightly spreading his arms. "There you go," he commented, "defenseless."
His intense blue eyes bore into hers, somewhat expectantly, and she thought she could easily drown in them. She raised her chin almost proudly.
"So am I," she replied.
They both fell silent and sat in stillness, just looking at each other and studying one another's face – bare of any mask and truly mirroring the emotions of honesty, trust and above all, love. They were perfectly aware of the deeper meaning of their words; no walls, no armors were left now. They'd both stripped themselves bare of even the latest barrier that, in the past, had been supposed to protect them from being hurt. They were giving each other the grandest of all presents lovers could give: deep and mutual trust.
Emma was the first to break the spell; she slid over to him, put her hands on his shoulders and swung her left leg across him so that she practically came to sit on his lap. Hook put his hand and, after only a second of hesitation, his mutilated wrist to her hips. Her face was a little above his now. She smiled – and it was the sultry, carefree smile again – and bent a little forward, touching her front to his.
"Let's make love until we fall asleep," she demanded with a subtle sort of intensity.
"Make love?" he echoed and slightly tilted his head with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Is that what it's called in this realm?"
Emma shrugged. "Too profane for you?"
Hook pursed his lips in thought and swayed his head. "Not profane at all. Plain and simple." He grinned. "Beautiful." With an almost sudden move, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her body close into his. "Yes, let's – make... love." He let the words roll across his tongue like a fine sip of exquisite rum.
With only a slight shifting of her hips she managed to let him glide inside her again and slid her arm closely around his broad shoulders while her other hand cupped the back of his head, her fingers combing through his unruly hair, never getting enough of messing it up. She had her ankles crossed behind his back, and his arms were crossed behind hers; they were smiling at each other and exchanging a lot of kisses in between, their hips gently rocking back and forth into each other. It was very similar to the kisses they'd shared only twenty-four hours ago outside Granny's, only this time they were in a warm bed, naked, and connected in the most intimate way. They moved slowly, almost carefully – like they had all the time in the world.
Oddly enough and unusual for them, they were very quiet, and the only sounds to be heard were their heavy breathing, only interrupted by the occasional sigh, the soft smacking sound of their lips when they kissed and the gentle creaking of the mattress as they swayed back and forth. Time didn't really matter, and when they finally sank onto the pillows, they were both completely spent and exhausted, but neither had never felt more alive before.
The moment her head touched the pillow, Emma felt a leaden, delicious heaviness crawl into her limbs, and at the same time her mind was light and swirling with no particular thought but just a general mist of happiness. Her eyelids seemed to close all by themselves. She curled up like a cat on her left side with an equally exhausted Hook spooning her from behind, his right arm wrapped over her protectively, his hand resting firmly and warmly on her stomach.
Within seconds his deep and steady breathing indicated he was asleep. Emma smiled and took his hand, pulling it up to her chest and holding it there with both of her hands, lacing her fingers through his. She kissed his fingertips, closed her eyes and whispered something into the darkness of the small bedroom – right now also known as her little private heaven – just because she wanted to hear the sound of the words and see how they felt on her lips.
"I love you." She was amazed at how wonderful it sounded and how awesome it felt – awesome and so surprisingly natural.
Behind her back, Hook was staring into the night with wide blue eyes. His full lips curved into the most dazzling smile he'd ever smiled.
I told you this would be a long one... I really hope I didn't bore you, but would love to hear it from yourselves - reviews, as always, are my butter and bread.
I don't know if to some of you it might seem as this chapter is somewhat of a closure to my story - let me assure you it isn't. Emma hasn't come to the end of her journey yet, and the next crisis - that might or might not be helpful with that - is already lurking around the corner, so if you liked where the story is going, please don't give up on me and stay tuned. Thank you.
Acknowledgements:
If you like the language and flow of this story - I can't thank my never-tiring wonderful editor emeraldromance enough for it. I wouldn't dare to publish anything without the tough of her skilled hands.
And this time a very, very special shoutout goes to my muse Silvia - in fact, the length of this chapter is mostly due to her insisting on third time's the charm; and if you enjoyed the steamy as the particularly emotional moments of this chapter: many of both of them sprung from her fantasy she so generously shares with me.