Hook and Emma + Touch
He's not overly fond of physical affection – neither of them are really – spending far too much of their lives alone to be entirely comfortable with the casual touches of intimacy.
He likes his words instead – his lilting voice telling her always how he feels, what she means to him. He tells her with a grin across the table at Granny's, with a vulgar wiggle of his eyebrows in front of her father. He whispers it against her skin as he moves above her in bed, trailing kisses across her collarbone, fingers sure and smooth over her stomach.
They slowly allow themselves the comfort of touch – falling headfirst into it.
(As they do with most things.)
She's lying on the couch with a book when he returns from the docks, hair wild and windswept from the brisk November weather. He kicks off his boots by the door and shuffles over to her with a wide yawn, body trembling with the force of it. He nudges her knees apart and slides in-between them, plopping down face first into her stomach without so much as a hello. She stares down at his mop of black hair in amusement and snorts to herself when his entire body relaxes, gentle snore echoing against her chest.
She runs her fingers through his hair and lets him sleep.
-/-
She tosses and turns in the empty bed, kicking the covers off of her with a frustrated sigh. She stares hard at the ceiling and makes her decision, sliding out of the bed and pulling on a pair of jeans. She tugs a hoodie over her head and trudges out the door, very mindful of the fact that it is close to 3 in the morning and she is being ridiculous.
He startles awake when she drops down into the captain's quarters - practically falling out of the tiny bed when his hazy mind registers it's her.
"Emma, what's going on? Are you alright?"
He sits up and the sheets pool around his waist, exposing his bare torso and the large tattoo over his heart. It's some sort of emblem, half marred by a brutal and terrible scar. Her fingers itch to run over it, like they have so many times before, and she takes a step closer.
"Are you hurt?"
He makes to stand but she shakes her head. "No. I couldn't sleep."
She takes off her jacket and throws it over the chair behind his desk, floorboard creaking under her feet as she walks to the bed. She slides off her shoes and climbs over him, wiggling down into the warm sheets. She relaxes with a sigh as his calming scent washes over her.
He remains half-seated, his gaze burning a hole into the back of her head. She reaches blindly behind her and grabs his fingers, tugging his arm over her waist.
"Can we just go to sleep, please?"
He pauses for another beat before relaxing fully into the bed, wrapping his arm tight around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. His fingers slide under the hem of her t-shirt, sighing when he finds bare skin.
She falls asleep instantly.
-/-
He's washing the dishes, sleeves rolled up above his elbows, humming some melodic tune under his breath. He looks so casual and domestic that she grins, taking a sip from her wine glass as she slides off her stool.
He places a plate in the dishwasher as she wraps her arms around his waist, ear flat against his back so she can hear it when his breath stutters in his chest. He tenses and then relaxes, soapy fingers dancing over the bare skin of her arm.
-/-
She's quiet as he traces mindless patterns into her skin, his blue eyes focused on the water as the Jolly Roger rocks beneath them. The sun is setting – casting the ship in purples and oranges, a light summer breeze blowing off the inlet.
"What are you thinking about?" She mutters and his hand soothes over her thigh, nails scratching lightly. She hums happily under her breath and he grins down at her.
"My love for you." He squeezes her kneecap. "How it's like my love for the sea – built into my very bones."
She rolls her eyes even as a light blush climbs her cheeks. She punches him lightly in the shoulder and he laughs, tangling her fingers with his and bringing their joined hands to his lips.
-/-
Her hands shake as they hover over his face, his torso, his arms. He blinks up at her with heavy eyes and she whimpers. An explosion sounds behind them and her palms press against his cheeks.
"Are you hurt?"
He grins. "'Tis but a scratch, love." His hand soothes over her cheek, thumb swiping against her lip. "I'll be just fine."
Still, she doesn't relax until they are back in the loft – until she's ran her hands over every inch of bare skin – until he is moving within her, with quick and frantic movements, needy noises escaping her lips with every thrust of his hips - until she is laying against him, his heartbeat sure and steady beneath her ear.
His hand runs along her spine. "I'm just fine."
-/-
He touches her nose – quick and carefree. Her eyes widen and he laughs at the look on her face.
"Did you just boop me?"
-/-
Her feet slide between his legs and he groans, trying to shift away. But she clamps her arms around him and shifts closer, cold feet seeking warm skin.
"Emma." He whines and she snickers under her breath.
-/-
Her favorite touches are the ones he's seemingly unaware of – the way his hand searches for her when he rolls over in the dead of night – the way his knees nudge at hers under the table - the way his fingers overlap hers when he's being obnoxious in the grocery store and tries to hijack the cart ("But I'm a captain, love.").
They make her heart swell and pound and she never thought it would be so easy.
His hand twists her hair away from her face as he gives her a sloppy kiss, her laugh loud in the bedroom. A tiny gurgle sounds from the crib at the foot of the bed and she gives him a look.
"Now you've done it. You woke the little pirate."
He just smiles at her, all teeth and happiness. His nose nudges at the skin beneath her ear and then he's sliding out of bed, reaching into the crib and carefully pulling their son against his chest.
"But I do believe you are the one who woke the pirate, darling."