Ok, most of the feedback I've gotten has indicated that I did a decent job of balancing the sex in the last chapter to keep Hook in character and dangerous without having him totally cross the line. That being said, I want to reiterate- he is NOT the Hook from the show. These pirates are people willing to do bad things. This Hook is in a very dark place. I'm not saying he's irredeemable. But he's very flawed. Please be aware. I will continue to put clear warnings on everything, but feel free to PM me if you have any questions or concerns. I'm not trying to upset anyone... Just telling a story.
That being said, this chapter doesn't have anything but the usual profanity, Hook creepiness and some vulgarity.
(also, sorry for the delay in getting this up. i've been distracted by/fangirling over all the spoilers. So excited for a new episode tonight!)
VIII.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well, but as the harsh light of morning filtered into the room, the previous night's activities flooding back in a rush of memory, he'd never felt more hungover. Had she really gone to her knees for him? Had he really tasted her? Gods, she'd felt so right in his bed, in his arms. A part of him was ecstatic- at least he'd gotten to have her somewhat before he had to worry about giving her back, but he only wanted her more now, wanted to drown in the pleasures of her and never surface. She was a forbidden fruit, and a simple taste wasn't nearly enough.
He had to wonder how she'd feel this morning. Would she regret what she'd done? He imagined that she'd probably hate him for what he'd pushed her into doing, though she certainly seemed enthusiastic enough at the time. What concerned him even more was that he cared about how she felt, something that hadn't happened in years and had to be ignored. The men would laugh at him and say he'd gone soft if they knew, but gods, they hadn't seen or felt her last night.
He lay there with his eyes closed, trying to focus on anything but fucking the body curled beside him into the mattress, eventually settling for making plans for the rest of their stay in Port Jefferson, where they'd be for another few days to trade in their goods. They'd have to get some more pitch, and replenish their food stores, but a lot of the supplies they'd salvaged from the Swan would keep the ship in good order. They'd even acquired a few 12-pound guns, which would come in handy during their next attack. Whether the ransom went through as expected or not, they'd be setting off indecently rich men.
He expected to lose a few crew members in port; one or two of them had called the large city home before becoming sailors and would probably want to stay there with their newfound wealth, but he figured most of them would want to stay on with him. They would sail until they found the perfect place to become someone else, to leave their lives of constant turmoil behind. Personally, he didn't expect to stay anywhere long- he had no real desire to make a home anymore. The sea had been his only real companion for five years, and no luxurious villa could replace the freedom it offered.
He slipped out from beside her and dressed quietly, stealing a last look at her lying bare and beautiful on his bed, hair still tangled from where his hand had clutched at it while she sucked him. He couldn't help but groan at the memory, stealing out of the room before she woke.
He climbed above deck, the calls of sea birds loud in the still morning air. The brisk sea breeze soothed his head, cooling the burn behind his eyes as he stretched his back and cracked his neck. "Captain on deck," Turley yelled from the bow, and a cheer went up from the crew. He turned a questioning eye to his quartermaster Ed, who smiled slyly. "Well, Cap'n, you weren't exactly subtle last night. We all wanted to know if she was worth having to scrub the bloody deck, but the satisfied look on your face this morning tells me it was."
He smirked in response, and let out a very dramatic, satisfied sigh, the easy banter of sailors familiar. "It's this pretty face of mine. No woman can resist me. It's a curse, really."
"Oh, I'm sure. Tell us, Cap, how does that royal cunny feel?"
He waggled his eyebrows, "Haven't found out yet, but I enjoyed giving her a belly full with her pretty little mouth on my cock."
"God damn," Mullins groaned. "Next time she screams for you, you'd better be fucking her good, ya bastard. I was this close to having her myself."
"Actually, I think Billy was closer," he fired back, prompting a grumbled "I hate you both" from Bill Jukes.
He looked to where the Revenge had been docked, relieved to see the ship had left port, and dismissed most of the crew, wanting them to enjoy the bounty that Port Jefferson had to offer. The town was large, and though it had earned its nasty reputation, it was exactly the kind of place where his men fit in. Pirates, smugglers, and thieves got along surprisingly well here, well aware that they all benefitted from places like this. Public drunkeness was the norm, and fucking and fighting in the streets went ignored.
He left the ship, finally ready to find out the princess' fate but sure he'd have her ransom in hand by day's end. After what he'd experienced the night before, he couldn't imagine any man turning her away. He strolled towards Sebastian "Mad Jeff" Jefferson's office, feeling a bit uneasy but looking forward to seeing the eccentric businessman. Jeff had been in charge of the port's trade ever since his father had died, carrying out all sort of shady deals just as generations before him had done. It was said that he could work his magic to get almost anything for you, or find a buyer for even the most random goods. The Jeffersons had founded the seedy port town centuries ago, and "Mad Jeff" was a perfect fit for the environment. Hook knocked on the door, laughing to himself at the austentatious top hat perched on the merchant's messy brown mop of hair.
"Killian! Get in here! It's been ages. I have an official letter for you somewhere..." he began rummaging through the many piles of papers that littered his desk. "Arrived two days ago, so I thought you might show up. You look great, man. What, or should I say who have you been doing?"
"Come now, Jeff, you know a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he replied, taking a sip from his flask before offering it to the other man, who shook his head pointing to a cup of tea.
"It's a bit early for me, thanks. And if you're a gentleman, I'm a haberdasher. Ah! Here we go!" He held out the letter, the golden wax seal proclaiming its origins. A quick flick of his wrist removed the seal, allowing him to read the prince's reply. A slow smile spread across his face.
"Good news, I take it?"
"For me, it is, mate," he smirked, folding the letter and placing it in his coat pocket.
He settled a few things and let Jeff get back to business, heading for a tavern by the bay that served his favorite mead. Pulling the letter out again, he read it a second time. He was certain he must have missed something on his first read, thinking no man could be so craven with a woman like Emma at stake, but there it was. He couldn't imagine her life with this cowardly prince would have been satisfying. The prince had essentially given his bride's maidenhead to a pirate.
He was not about to refuse such a kingly gift.
She would be distraught, of course, when she found out. Last night had been a strange turn of events, and she'd still refused to let him inside her despite her obvious arousal. Still, even if he had to take her, he could use what he'd learned to make her come for him. He had to fight back his desire as he imagined how incredible she'd be riding out her orgasm with her cunt squeezing his cock instead of his fingers. He'd have to arrange for a proper display of taking her virginity at some point, but tonight she would be his alone. He planned on keeping her in his bed until he tired of her, which could take quite a while. There was something about Emma that drew him to her, and he needed to understand it.
He took some roast boar with him, hoping she'd be willing to eat, and a jug of the sweet honeywine, anticipating the girl in his cabin would need a drink before the day was out. Stopping by the market, he purchased a deep green dress, knowing Emma's ability to make the most mundane garment look regal would enhance its simple beauty. As much as he hated to cover her up, he couldn't keep her locked in his cabin forever, and parading her around the men would be trouble enough with her clothed appropriately.
He imagined her standing on the deck of his ship, her flaxen hair lifted by the breeze as she stood behind him at the helm, then shook away the far-too-domestic thought, replacing it with the more comfortable image of her bent over, the green dress up around her hips as he plunged into her. He sighed, acknowledging that the siren certainly had ensnared him. If he were a smart man, he'd get things over with and leave her at port to make her own way home, but Captain Killian Jones was not going to be bested by a little blonde princess.
Emma lounged in the captain's bed, feeling oddly alone after the previous night's activities and without the usual morning routine of casual conversation that she and Hook had established. She knew she should probably be ashamed; she'd been intimate with a man, one who wasn't her fiancé at that, but she couldn't find it in herself to really regret it. After a lifetime of doing what was expected and maintaining appearances, she'd finally done something truly reckless.
She ached ever so slightly, her body unaccustomed to the intrusion of his fingers, but the three times he'd brought her to ecstasy had been absolutely worth the lingering soreness. Warmth rose in her cheeks as she remembered it. She had never dreamed it would be that pleasurable, far beyond any hopes she'd harbored for her wedding night. She wondered if Neal would take the time to do the same for her before consummating their marriage. She hoped so; she had no doubt that her arousal the previous night would have made actual intercourse infinitely more enjoyable. Not that she'd ever think about doing that with Hook.
Of course, she'd never thought she'd use her mouth on a man, let alone enjoy doing so. She was a princess, not some tawdry tavern girl, and fell to her knees for no one. Well, she thought with a smile, almost no one. Then again, the absolutely wrecked look on the captain's face while she pleasured him made her feel more in-control than ever. For all her inexperience, she felt powerful, capable, even beautiful with his cock in her mouth and his grunts and praises ringing in her ears. She'd been taught that good, highborn girls like her didn't give away their favors so easily, certainly not to men they weren't married to, but that notion conflicted with what she secretly desired, and gods had his hand and mouth felt good. She, a princess of the realm, had literally begged him to give her release.
Would Neal make her feel like that? Would he hold her close and kiss her hair and tell her she was amazing? He'd been quite the charmer that night in the pub, and she could imagine his playful antics would put her at ease in the bedroom. Then again, it was Neal who'd told her that it would hurt... something that Hook maintained wasn't necessarily true. Now that she'd actually seen a naked man, she wondered how it could be anything but excruciatingly painful, unless she was very aroused, like she'd been last night.
She felt herself getting a bit excited just thinking about Hook's mouth on her again. Maybe if she were a less important woman, if her virginity wasn't such a commodity and the risk of conceiving a child out of wedlock less disastrous, she'd consider letting Hook be her first, just so it wouldn't be torturous. She wasn't sure if it was because of what she'd felt him do the previous night, but she believed him for some reason and had a feeling that Hook would be a skilled lover. He was obviously well-endowed, and seemed to know his way around a woman's body.
Resisting the urge to sneak her hand between her legs and indulge in her little fantasy, she sat up and donned the shirt Starkey had given her, purposely focusing instead on Neal and the reasons she wanted to marry him. He'd been the first prince who she'd let in enough to know her hopes and fears. He was cute, sweet, and charming. Access to his kingdom's military would be a huge asset for her parents, who had but a tiny army at their disposal. She could imagine Neal being quite a loving father; his own parents had died when he was a boy, essentially abandoning him to be raised by the court, and he'd said that he wanted a better life for his own children. So, maybe she wasn't as sure that it would be a passionate love...but he was a good match for her. It was exactly the life she'd been groomed for since her little brother Leo had been born and her status had gone from heir to marriage material.
Sure, a part of her hadn't been joking when she suggested she and Neal change their names and run away together, away from the responsibility of running a kingdom and the expectations placed on them. It seemed ridiculous that she'd complain about her life of luxury, even if that life would make her feel imprisoned in a way, but the night they'd spent in the pub, when they had left their titles behind and could just be Neal and Emma, had been one of her happiest.
She was torn from her musings as she heard the captain's booted steps approach the door, then the metallic scrape of a key in the lock, and realized he'd have received word from Neal. Maybe they could just avoid talking about what had transpired the night before, she thought, and go their separate ways. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she raked her hand through her hair nervously as he entered, carrying a small basket of food, a jug of some sort of alcohol, and what looked like a woman's dress. "Morning, lass," he greeted her, uncharacteristically chipper, "Sleep well?" He waggled his eyebrows salaciously, and she couldn't fight the blush she felt creep up at his question.
"Well enough." She kept her tone clipped, trying to hide her slightly conflicted thoughts regarding the previous night. "Have you received word from Prince Neal regarding my ransom? I have a wedding I'd very much like to get to at some point."
He placed the goods in his arms on the table, pointing. "Some food, and a jug of mead, in case you wanted some. And a dress, for when you leave the cabin. I can't very well let you leave wearing nothing but my shirt, even if I do rather enjoy the way it looks on you." He made a point of trailing his eyes over the low V of the neckline down between her breasts.
She cocked her head, regarding him suspiciously. "Um, thanks? But you didn't answer my question. You did remember to go to pick up his response, right?"
"Aye, I did. I have the letter right here." He pulled it from his pocket, holding it up.
"Oh thank the gods," she sighed, reaching out as he handed her the parchment. "So, when do I get to leave?"
"You don't." He licked his lips, which curved in a smirk.
"What!?" She yelled, still holding the folded paper in her hand. "You said you'd leave me alone if Neal paid my ransom, you lying piece of shit!"
He snorted indignantly, pointing to her hand. "You might want to actually read that before yelling at me, princess. Your fate lies in the palm of my," he gestured to his hook, "well, you know. Perhaps it might be wise to be a touch more polite, because it looks like you're going to be with me for quite a while, darling." He gave her a snarky smile, then turned to leave in order to keep himself from laughing cruelly at her open-mouthed expression. "I'll... give you a moment." He stepped through the door, locking it behind him and hearing the choked sound of her first sobs echo through the hall behind him as he walked to grab a bottle of rum from the galley, ignoring the slight twinge of guilt that briefly shot through him.
