Heed the warning folks. This is not rainbows and sunshine.
If the first chapter at all made you feel uncomfortable, the second might do the same. Although I do delve more into Emma's emotions and her confusion and frustration. So yeah. But please...this is dark and different and don't read it if you're sensitive about that kind of stuff.
On a side...thanks for your reviews!
I love you all and you're all amazing!
Please let me know what you think after this chapter AKA REVIEW!
(it's late will edit further tomorrow)
Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT!
"What are you doing here?" his voice was quiet, tired, his features pulled tight and stiff.
"I told you not to talk." She muttered softly, annoyance spiking hot in her veins as she moved further into his cabin. Her heart beat fast and painful against her chest, the dull thumping echoing in her ears as she stubbornly pushed away the voices in her head that were questioning her presence in his room—begging her to turn around and leave.
Shooting her a slightly incredulous look, he raised a dark brow sharply, his features flattening into an unamused expression. "Go back to your boy Swan, you just found him…you should be with him, not seeking solace in the cabin of a pirate."
Clenching her jaw tightly at his words, something centered deep and low protested his mentioning of Henry, angry at his quiet dismissal. This wasn't about her son. This was about her—her needs, her wants, her desires. She saw the way he looked at her, was aware of everything he had done for her, and she'd be damned if she was going to allow him to push her away…not now.
She wasn't done with him yet.
"Is that really what you want me to do Captain?"
Her voice held a taunting note, the sound soft and cruel. And walking towards him fast, she disregarded the somewhat startled expression he shot her as she moved her body in front of his and pressed herself against him, one hand slithering up his arm and hooking around his neck, drawing him closer.
"What game are you playing?" The question was whispered quietly, near reverently, his alcohol-laced breath feathering across her face.
She smiled up at him, the grin feeling forced and fake as her body hummed in anticipation—wanting to take, needing an outlet for her confusion even as her mind and heart protested her intentions…
Not like this.
It shouldn't happen this way.
The cry echoed in her head over and over again—resonating soundly, firmly, pleadingly.
"Isn't this what you want Hook…" Stepping back from him, she tilted her head up, appraising him thoroughly. "Isn't this what you've wanted for awhile now." And reaching out, she relieved him of his drink glass, placing it on the desk behind him, her body brushing against his as she did.
"Not like this." His voice was strained, a pained look etched into his features, the words sending a jolt of anger rushing through her. "You just want a warm and willing body, you don't want me…not really. I'll not be your puppet. I'll not have you this way. Leave."
She hated that he knew her so well.
Because he was right...she needed a warm body, she needed to lose herself in him—she couldn't deal with the raging emotions swarming inside of her since Henry's return.
She needed relief damnit.
She needed him.
"We'll forget this—"
"Shut-up." her voice was hard and low and surging forward she grasped his face in her hands, nearly laughing cruelly at the look of blatant surprise that flashed across his features. In a move that lacked finesse and grace, she forced his head to hers, kissing him hard and bruising, disregarding the way his body tensed and his lips stayed frozen beneath hers.
He wanted her.
She sensed it. She could feel it— the proof steadily growing more obvious as she pressed her body against his, the feel of his slow hardening sending a surge of triumph through her as she ignored the muttered curse he whispered against her still moving lips.
He wanted her.
He cared for her.
Tonight she wouldn't take no for an answer…
It wasn't so much the feel of cold metal clasping tightly against her wrist that awoke her so much as the way her body seemed to sense his presence—a hot flush sweeping across her skin, the tiny hairs on her arms rose with awareness. Her eyes shooting open, she lifted her head; her gaze immediately clashing with piercing and familiar blue as a telling and dangerous click echoed in her ears. Lips pursing, heart pounding, she stared at him silently as realization slowly sunk in.
She was cuffed.
To her own goddamned bed.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Hook's smile was cool, sadistic and calculating, matching his villainous and callous reputation of legend as it spread slowly across his lips. And for a moment, for a few breath-hitching seconds, she felt fear. Real honest to goodness fear. Unsure what he was capable of, curious what he had come to her for this time, she attempted to calm her suddenly rapid breathing and desperately tried to soothe the swirling and panicked thoughts that immediately sprung to life in her head.
She should yell for help.
She should kick and scream and create a messy scene.
She should fight.
Instead she remained quiet.
Peering at him closer, straining slightly against her cuff, she realized with some surprise and no small amount of relief that the cruel grin didn't quite meet his eyes—something soft, hesitant, and unreadable flashed in the vivid depths before fading away completely and disappearing entirely.
But she had seen it.
And as the air grew thick with tension around them—the quiet near deafening—silently, hopefully, she grasped onto that soft, uncertain look. "Hook," she whispered softly, her voice coming out raspier than she would have liked, "What are you doing here?"
Not answering her right away, Hook stepped back from her bed; and rocking back on his heels, he brought a hand to his stubble, scratching it purposefully as studied her—a dark glint lighting his gaze as it roamed over her appreciatively. God damn him, he looked like sin; radiating dark and wicked promise as he stood in the shadows of her room dressed in leather and black, blanketed in the dim light of the filtered moon.
Danger.
"You had to figure it would only be a matter of time darling…until the tables were turned."
"What are you talking about?"
"I've pictured you bound up and at my mercy for sometime now Swan…I always thought you had a thing for it anyway…after all you've never been shy about tying me up isn't that right sweetheart?"
The guy really did know how to hold a friggin grudge.
"Hook." She said his name sharply, the word whooshing out of her as she uselessly strained against the metal once again. And feeling a pinch, she gritted her teeth and studied the lock.
Don't panic.
Don't.
Panic.
A nip of pain shooting up her arm as the cuff dug into her wrist, she cursed softly, violently, and bringing her free hand up to her face, she rubbed the last of the lingering sleep from her eyes as he leisurely walked to the foot of the bed—her gaze alert and following his every move.
"Hook," she started again, this time firmer, steadier, angrier. "Get this goddamned thing off me or I swear to God…"
Her words trailed off meaningfully and she watched as he continued to stay silent, seemingly unconcerned by her idle threat. Instead of jumping to action, heeding her request and freeing her on the spot, he stared at her intently, curiously, with his stormy sea-colored eyes. And raising a brow, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smug and infuriating smirk, the smile unquestionably devastating.
It was unnerving.
And annoying.
Tilting his head to the side, his eyes drank her in, sliding his gaze over her freely, his tongue coming out to wet his lips as he continued to stare. Dressed in a flimsy white tank top and loose pajama pants, she couldn't help the shudder that rippled over her under his unblinking scrutiny, something cool slithering across her skin even as her insides suddenly roared hot, her body peaking with awareness. She felt exposed and naked. Still staring at her carefully, slowly he stepped back, and cocking his head to the side, he let his eyes continue to wander, looking at her as if she were some complex puzzle he had yet to figure out.
He was reading her.
Always reading her.
Pulling against the cuff again, Emma struggled with it for a moment, not caring how ridiculous she looked fighting against the unbreakable metal—somewhat curious why he had only bound her one hand.
What had he planned?
Why was he toying with her?
Glancing around, her eyes scanned her immediate surroundings, looking for something…anything…to help her pick the lock…cursing when she saw her nightstand was clear, everything else out of her reach.
"Darling, your efforts are quite futile I can assure you that much." His voice broke the silence, her eyes snapping to his at the sound. "You really think I'm going to simply let you slip away while I'm watching…what is the fun in that?" Making a tisking noise, he began moving around her bed again, deliberately trailing his good hand across her comforter as he did. Coming up on the other side, his eyes burning into her hotly, he leaned towards her ever so slightly, his lips quirking into another hint of a smile. "Why would I go through all the trouble…breaking in, sneaking past your family, and cuffing you to your bed…"
He paused for a moment, his gaze wandering down the length of her body—his eyes crinkling a bit at the corners as he swept them over her purposefully. "And a hell of a bed it is Swan…looks comfortable…sturdy." Warning bells ringing shrilly in her head, she opened her mouth to shoot a retort at him as her muddled brain still tried to grasp her somewhat dire situation. But he merely raised his hand, cutting off her words before she even had the chance to speak them. "Why would I do all of that…if I simply intended to let you break free?"
Valid question.
Pulling at the cuff she glared at him with all the unmasked vehemence she could manage, ignoring the unwanted warmth that was pooling low in her belly as she considered his possible intentions—her body and mind clashing as one fought the others reaction.
"Is this your idea of a sick joke?" She hissed the words at him, her voice dropping low midway through the accusation as suddenly, worriedly, her thoughts shot to her parents downstairs and Henry only a room away. Silently she prayed they'd remain undisturbed.
She'd never be able to face them again if they saw her like this,
Vulnerable.
Humiliated.
Weak.
"You're crossing a line Hook...coming to my house! God dammit! You're lucky I didn't arrest you after…after…"
She swallowed thickly, her eyes widening as her brain jumped into overdrive. Images flashed in her head rapidly in unforgiving succession—his body pressed tightly against hers, pushing into her harshly as he rubbed her viciously from behind, taunting her as he bent her over her desk, whispering filthy things into her ear, forcing her to feel things she hadn't been prepared for, things she hadn't wanted to admit to.
"Let me go."
His eyes still intense and blazing met hers and held her stare; his expression eerily calm and betraying little emotion, he spoke quietly, "Sweetheart I believe I made myself clear the other night…I'm not done with you yet. In fact, I've only just begun…I'm going to ruin you…I'm going to break you like you broke— He paused abruptly, an odd look coming over his features as he shook himself. Breaking eye contact, he grunted something unintelligible under his breath and took a moment to seemingly collect himself before meeting her eyes again and leaning over her even further. His face hovering mere inches above hers, he smiled slowly, a dire and brutal warning slashing across his lips. "I can't leave you alone Emma…not when you want it so badly."
Bastard.
He was a cruel, selfish, stupid bastard.
Feeling the air rush out of her, her body going rigid as emotions ran through her fast—shame, anger, lust, need, denial—clashing together inside of her and colliding violently; she fought not to look away from him, refusing to give him the upper-hand.
She wished he disgusted her.
But he didn't.
Not enough.
Since that night at the sheriff's station, she had been struggling with herself—her wants and desires. For days she had wandered around in a haze, alternating between hating herself and feeling sorry for herself, hating him and wondering where the hell he was…why he hadn't come to her like he had hinted at and promised. It was infuriating and it was crushing—she had tried to get through day-to-day life, playing her role as the dutiful sheriff while keeping a watchful eye on the quiet town. And she had stubbornly ignored the unwanted fire he had lit inside of her, trying to squash it as it threatened to spread—the flames licking at her hotly as she had uselessly fought to keep herself under control, his heat laced warning echoing in her ears…
Bend her.
Break her.
Ruin her.
And now, now that he was here, she didn't know what to feel—her body, heart, and head were all screaming different things, giving her mixed and confusing signals.
"You're sick." She whispered finally bringing her focus back to him, realizing he was waiting for her to speak.
"Am I?" He murmured the words softly, trailing his fingers up her arm, dancing them across her bare skin and barely flinching when she swatted him away with her free hand; the slap of her palm against his skin, burning her hand and echoing in the silent room loudly—the sting a welcoming and harsh feeling.
"Don't you dare touch me!"
His answering smile was quick, the way his eyes narrowed unmistakable.
He moved in the blink of an eye.
He was fast; but unlike at the sheriff's station when he had thrust her up against the wall, she expected it. She braced herself for impact when he straddled her suddenly, his thighs caging her in as he pinned her free hand to the mattress and pressed his body against hers, taunting her with his strength as his angry gaze found hers— her bound hand straining almost painfully as her arm was pulled at an odd angle. Shifting beneath him, she sucked in a breath, the feel of his arousal, hard and throbbing, surprising her even as a wave of satisfaction laced fear washed over her as a strange look came over his features when her leg rubbed against him as she struggled.
"Stop fighting me."
"Stop trying to fucking force yourself on me."
"Ahhh but you love it." His voice was barely above a whisper, the velvet notes soft and almost mocking.
And furious with the sound, annoyed with the way it sent a shiver dancing across her skin, she thrust her hips up, trying to shake him off, only to spit out a curse under her breath as he grunted with her efforts rocking back into her deliberately with a short rippled laugh, quite obviously thoroughly enjoying her resistance.
"You're an asshole."
"Mmmm…" he hummed at the statement, the noise sounding almost friendly, as if he couldn't agree more with the insult she had slung at him. "And I could fuck you right now."
"Get off!"
Instead of answering her, he slowly, rocked his hips against hers again; the tiny movements sending unwanted sparks skittering up her body as another low and deep chuckle escaped his lips.
"And you'd like it."
"I'm going to kill you., I'm going to cut off your other goddamned hand, I'm going to—"
"Keep talking darling…I can practically feel your arousal…this really does it for you doesn't it? This game of control and dominance."
"You think this whole thing is a game? Forcing yourself on me, cuffing me so I can't fight back? You're a sick bastard."
"Such a passionate argument Swan." Lowering his head, so that his lips hovered near her ear, he pressed more of his weight into her, the heat of his body warming hers. "But I know your secrets darling…every single filthy one of them."
He knew nothing.
He knew everything.
"Dammit Hook! This is has to stop…"
"Scream now princess."
The whisper caused her to pause. Her chest heaving and head spinning, her eyes flashed to his as he raised his head to look down at her—his low demand slowly registering in her brain. "W-what?"
Lifting his mouth into a mirthless smile, clearly amused by her surprised and faltering question, his hips canted against hers, causing her to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to prevent the soft moan that threatened to ripple up from her throat and escape her lips.
"Scream now, call for help…do something, anything other than this weak attempt…this show of struggle." Dipping his head down again, he brushed his lips against her neck, dusting them upwards until they found her ear again, his stubble scratching against her skin—she could feel his mouth quirk upwards into what she could only assume was a salacious and knowing grin. "I'm seconds away from stripping you naked, if you truly seek assistance, if you want your precious family to come save you…scream now. Yell…shout…make a bloody scene."
"Hook—"
"This is your last chance darling before its too late…"
She shook her head, confusion clouding her brain as she tried to place his words, attempting to figure out this new angle of his.
What the hell kind of game was he playing now?
"I don't understand." She mumbled, trying her hardest to block out the feel of his body against hers, reminding herself that this was wrong...what he was doing was wrong.
"Emma, Emma, Emma," his voice, softly lilting and silky smooth, fluttered hotly across her face, whispering to her quietly as his good hand tightened on her wrist and his hook drifted downwards, the metal catching in the waistband of her pants and tugging on them meaningfully. "I plan on making you beg, I intend to force you to admit to things you never thought yourself capable of acknowledging in the confines of that pretty little head of yours…let alone out loud…to me. I will break you darling and you will beg for it…and you won't even realize you're doing it until it's too late. If you don't try to escape me now, will your pride really allow you to yell for help when I've pushed you too far…when your naked and exposed…shuddering and dripping wet for me?"
Reeling from his words, she barely flinched when his tongue darted out slowly and traced a line up the hot skin of her neck. Lapping at her leisurely and nipping lightly at her once, he ignored her startled and muffled protest and the stiffening of her body when she finally snapped back to herself and craned her head away from him—the new angle apparently only exposing fresh skin for him to content himself with.
"And you will be wet for me, you probably already are…hot, wet, and aching...so my dear the choice is simple…we either end this now, you scream and yell and allow your parents to find you with the big bad pirate, ruffled but otherwise in tact…or you keep quiet and you do exactly what I say and know that I won't stop…I won't let you stop until I'm satisfied, until you've done everything I've asked of you." He ghosted his lips further up her throat, his teeth dragging across the shell of her ear. "Until you've yielded to me…again. Then, and only then will I leave you…for tonight."
Mother-fucker.
Swearing softly, thoroughly rattled and shaken to her very core, she mentally berated herself, disgusted with the fact that slowly, surely she was becoming reluctantly aroused—her nipples stiffening slightly, her body humming, and heat pooling between her legs.
There was something wrong with her.
Maybe he had already broken her.
Maybe she was past the point of caring.
Pushing herself further into the mattress, watching as he lifted his head to stare down at her, his eyes seeking and finding hers fast, she blew out a slow and shuddering breath, involuntarily getting swept up in his damning blue gaze as their eyes locked.
And it was there that quite shockingly she saw something she hadn't been expecting.
Behind the raging emotions, under the taunting threats, and just past the raw and obvious lust…wasn't the formidable and fearsome Hook, but Killian Jones. The man who had come back for her, the man who had helped her find her son, the man who had allowed her to come to him that night in Neverland, the man who had let her take everything and had asked for nothing in return, the man who she had then pulled away from, leaving without a word, without explanation.
The man who she had pushed too far.
And that was the man who truly terrified her, even more so than the villain of myth and folklore.
He was there hiding behind his own self-loathing and hate.
And he was giving her an out.
No matter how fucked up it was, he was giving her a chance to push him away.
His eyes were nearly pleading with her to take it.
If she called for help now, her parents would come. And while they'd find her cuffed to her own bed, thoroughly embarrassed, undeniably angry and unquestioningly frustrated as hell, it was something she would be able to deal with…eventually. She could lick her wounds and get over it...with time. But if she waited, if she let the moment pass her by, then he'd strip her bare—taking away any and all chance for her to deny him anything.
Scream! SCREAM NOW! A shrieking voice in her head begged her desperately, even as her body relaxed, some of the tension briefly lessening as she warred with her darker self.
She was conflicted.
She was confused.
She was scared.
"You're a bastard." She hissed it at him softly, the curse falling dull and flat.
And seeing a gleam of triumph flash victoriously in his gaze when she said nothing else—the urge to alert her family fading away—she allowed her eyes to drift from his, fixing them on the dark fabric of his shirt as he shifted his position above her.
"Unwise choice princess."
And without another word, he pushed himself off of her smoothly. Releasing her unbound wrist he pulled her pants down fast, ridding her of them and taking her underwear off in the process—exposing her to him completely before she had the chance to react.
As the cool air hit her skin, Emma closed her thighs, clenching them together tightly, her cheeks heating and heart slowing for a moment; skipping a beat and nearly stopping before pounding violently against her chest in a fast and erratic rhythm.
What the hell had she done?
"Don't hide from me Emma." Hook's voice was soft, his tone icy and demanding; it held a note of authority mixed with an undeniable warning—hinting at a man who was used to giving orders and expected them to be followed.
"Go to hell."
Even she could hear the lack of conviction her words held…the fact sickening her slightly even as she anticipated his next move, tugging at the cuff more for show than for hope at escaping. She had made her decision, even if she refused to acknowledge it—part of her crying foul, claiming he had taken the choice away from her the moment he had bound her to her bed.
"Emma…" he sang her name. Drawing her attention back to him, she watched as he stepped closer to the bed and smiled down at her, his lips twitching up humorlessly, devoid of warmth and emotion; any spark of the man who she had glimpsed only moments ago gone, hidden away while the ruthless pirate returned to play. "I make the demands and you follow them…just remember that sweetheart."
"Wait just…" She closed her eyes for a moment, looking for the right words, wanting to reason with him, needing to find some semblance of equal ground. She was at his mercy, she had chosen not to call for help and for some reason was still choosing not to, but even so there was a sliver of defiance still holding out inside of her, attempting to break through—calling her weak, pathetic, and twisted. "Listen I need to…"
Raising his good hand, Hook stopped her, his gaze flashing to hers as he eyed her coolly. "I want you to touch yourself."
"Excuse me?"
"Fuck yourself."
"What?" the panic in her voice was undeniable.
"I want to see you bury your fingers inside yourself. What the bloody hell can't you understand about that my dear?"
Jesus Christ.
Her body felt as though it were on fire, her eyes fluttering downwards quickly at his request, taking a moment to process his crass words before boldly, almost angrily, flashing back to his. She shouldn't ache so much at his demand, her body shouldn't react so hotly to his sin-soaked voice. Heat scorching her skin, her folds growing damper and slicker by the second, she clenched her teeth, sucked in a breath, and attempted to collect her scattered and rebellious thoughts.
God dammit she wanted to hit him.
She wanted to fight him.
She wanted to fuck him.
"I'm waiting Emma."
"No."
Stepping closer to her, fury flashing in his eyes as her softly spoken refusal hung in the space between them, lingering for a moment before dying away, Hook raised a brow. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear." He said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as he drew nearer, his legs brushing up against the mattress as he leaned over the bed. "If you don't do everything I say, if you don't heed my every request, I will cuff your other hand to your bed…and I will leave you. Naked, exposed, and bound. That is how your family will find you sweetheart…completely helpless…powerless…vulnerable." A small, almost gentle smile touching his lips, his eyes flickered down her body slowly, taking his time to consider every inch of her before meeting her stare once more. "Is that what you want?"
"No." she whispered the word softly, a sinking and heavy feeling settling in her gut as she imagined Mary Margaret and David finding her in such and awkward and defenseless state.
"Good girl. If you listen to me, if you do as I say, I promise to release you. Your family will be none the wiser." Drawing in a breath, his eyes roaming over her once more, he swiped his tongue across his teeth before slowly speaking again. "Now touch yourself Emma…or I will leave and your family will be in for quite a surprise with the rising of the sun."
He was bluffing.
Suddenly, abruptly, she could hear the lie seeping from his voice—her inner detector screaming and roaring to attention.
He wouldn't do it.
He wouldn't leave her.
He wouldn't cross that line.
Shock, awe, and misplaced gratitude rushing through her fast, her breathing evened out as the tiny pinpricks of nervous energy that had gathered inside of her scattered.
And yet…
Her fingers were shaking as she lifted them to her body; embarrassment sweeping over her as her mind protested what she was considering doing. Even knowing that his threat was empty, his words meaningless, something inside of her, some normally dormant part, urged her to listen, pushing her into action. Hearing his sharp intake of breath as her hand traveled downwards, moving past her quivering stomach and hesitantly reaching lower, she blocked out the voices, not wanting to think too hard about what she was about to do and why. Pausing, biting down on the inside of her cheek as she reached her already wet folds, she took in a breath and closed her eyes for a moment—needing to calm her tumultuous thoughts, wanting to silence the roaring in her ears.
"Look at me."
Sighing, a tight scowl forming on her lips at the demand, Emma opened her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat as she locked her somewhat hazy gaze with his. Despite his calm and cool voice, there was a storm brewing in the blue depths of his stare; nearly every emotion imaginable swirling and raging as he practically glowered down at her hotly—his hand clenched tightly at his side, his mouth set into a grim and hard line. And it was as their eyes met, as she allowed herself to look at him, as she got swept up in his turbulent stare, that she felt her spine stiffening, something inside of her furiously and vigorously protesting their actions—his need for brutal dominance and her submissive acceptance.
She didn't want this.
Not really.
As much as she reluctantly desired him, as much as she unwillingly needed him.
She didn't want it to continue like this.
She wanted him to stop trying to hurt her. She needed to apologize for hurting him. The wounds from her actions in Neverland and his retaliation in the sheriff's station were too fresh…too real.
It was wrong.
It was all so very wrong.
"Show me what you do to yourself Emma, show me how you fuck yourself, how you think of me standing between your thighs and taking you over and over again. Show me how you scream into your pillow as you come undone around your fingers, wishing it were my cock causing you such pleasure. " He shifted closer, his eyes suddenly blazing as his words grew more heated. "Show me."
Defiance roaring strong inside of her, even as a surge of wetness gathered between her thighs, she squared her shoulders and pulled her hand back, narrowing her eyebrows as she did. "No."
It was near tangible—his fury matching her resistance—the air practically simmered and hummed with the sudden tension; the dark and silent room nearly sparking with pent-up frustrations and unspoken emotions.
She was toeing a line he had dared her not to cross.
Hook's sudden laugh was unexpected, the way it wrapped itself around her not entirely wanted. Nodding his head once, he grinned down at her, dark challenge glimmering in his stare. "If that's how you want to play darling." And moving fast, he lowered himself onto the bed; sitting on the edge, he grabbed her stiffened hand and yanked her towards him hard, his hooked arm wrapping around her waist and his smile widening when she crashed smartly against his chest. "I told you I'd make you beg…" he whispered against her mouth—his lips a mere breadth away, he waited a heartbeat before brushing them against hers softly, almost tenderly; the gentle caress nearly causing her to lean into his otherwise ruthless embrace.
She was so tired, so drained, so lonely.
A large part of her wanted to pretend that this wasn't happening, that his hold was kinder, that he had come to her under much different circumstances. She almost wanted to beg him to stop, to plead with him to let it go. Not because she was scared, not because she couldn't take it, but because she wanted and needed him—not his stupid tricks and devious games…him.
Just him.
Killian.
In their own fucked up way they were the only ones who truly understood each other. He had pushed, and was continuing to push her, to the point of ruining her—threatening to bend, break and shatter her—all the while coaxing the nearly nonexistent sparks that had long ago been buried deep inside of her to a roaring and wild soul-consuming blaze.
It was twisted.
But she didn't want to let it go…she couldn't disregard it.
You and I we understand each other.
As if sensing the sudden change in her mind and body, somehow coming into tune with her wants and needs, Hook breathed in deeply, nuzzling her gently, his mouth hovering over hers in a ghost of a kiss, before pulling back abruptly and unwrapping his arm from around her middle. Flattening his lips into a severe line, he slowly ran his hook down the side of her face—the feather light touch cool against her flaming skin. "No lass I'll not be gentle with you…not tonight." His tone sounded almost apologetic, somewhat lost and unstable and before Emma could grasp onto it, before she could use it to her advantage, he was speaking again. "Now either fuck yourself or I cuff your other hand, rid you of your shirt and allow the prince and princess to find you in the morning."
"Don't." Weakly, she attempted to move away from him as he placed light pressure on her free hand, forcing it down—her emotions taking another dive as anger and confusion swam in her already hazy brain.
"Why didn't you scream before when I had asked you to? Why not fight me more if you don't want this?" he murmured softly; his larger hand grasping hers near crushingly trailed it down over her abdomen, moving lower still. "You've been waiting for this since the moment I nearly took you in the sheriff's station. You want this." He shifted closer, his body brushing hers again. "Tell me you don't."
Yes.
No.
Please.
She said nothing, her eyes pricking with tears as her brain screamed at her for her depraved wants and needs—she felt as if she were being torn in half, part of her craving his cruel touch and words while another part protested it.
"Show me Emma. Show me what you did to yourself after I left you at the station." His words danced across her skin, their breaths mingling together as his request echoed in her head, striking a sensitive chord inside of her. "Did you go home and fuck yourself?"
Before she could object, the denial on the tip of her tongue, he brushed his lips against hers once again and shook his head, stopping her words. "Don't deny it…you were frustrated…so hot and wet and angry…I could practically feel it. So, my love…" Shifting even closer to her, the bed creaking with their weight, he hovered their locked hands over her aching and wet center—so close to touching but not quite there. "Did you pretend it was my cock? Did you come hard for me darling?"
Gritting her teeth, Emma swallowed past her tight and narrowed throat, her thoughts screaming at her as she silently acknowledged the fact that yes, she had come hard that night thinking of him, of what he had done to her, of how she should have felt violated and angry…not sexually frustrated and craving more. Images of lying on her bed—her thighs spread apart as she had plunged her fingers in and out of her herself, whispering his name into the dark and wishing he was there, taking her hard, fast, and violent— flashed in her head, the cruel secret taunting her shamefully.
"Gods Emma…" his voice broke for a moment, drawing her attention back to him. And tensing against him, she awed in the fact that he had briefly lost his control, his grip on her lessening slightly, his power over her nearly vanishing as he shuddered against her. But before she could truly register it, he composed himself fast. Tightening his hold on her hand, suddenly, almost painfully, he forced it lower, brushing her clenched fingers against her slick and glistening folds. "Let me watch."
It shouldn't be so goddamned hot.
She shouldn't be aching so much to relieve the coiling pressure that had unwittingly built inside of her.
But dammit, with his hand over hers, his fingers digging into her skin, the spicy smell of him intoxicating, the wrongness of everything weighing over her, she found herself wanting to comply—the darker side of her breaking through and reveling in his actions.
"Show me there's a passionate woman that lies beneath that cool demeanor. Show me you want more than a quick ruthless fuck. I know you do darling. I can read you, I can see you…I know you're practically brimming with heat and lust and want. Show me there's bloody more than the heartless being that took everything from me that night. Dammit Emma show me."
God it hurt.
His words hit hard—heartless, ruthless, everything—sending her body and mind into overdrive. It was twisted and sick and slightly demented; but they resonated throughout her, driving his point home and finally, finally, opening her eyes.
She had broken him.
And while she still wanted him—in that very moment it became more than that. Suddenly, desperately, she wanted to soothe him, forgive him…make it up to him.
She wanted more.
More.
More.
More!
"I'm so sorry," she whispered; the words slipping out of her fast as she straightened slightly, looking him square in the eye, noting the surprise that flashed across his features as her words skittered across his lips. Her hand still in his slipping lower, she allowed it to brush against her sensitive skin softly, the gentle touch nearly causing her to gasp "I'm sorry about Neverland, what I did…how I did it. I'm sorry I broke you." Suddenly, curiously, she felt a weight she hadn't realized she'd been carrying around lessen slightly, her breathing becoming faster as she kept her eyes on his desperate to say it again, wanting the weight, the pain, the regret to diminish completely. "I'm sorry."
"Emma—"
She dusted her fingers over herself, drawing her lip into her mouth, watching as his attention wavered. Swallowing thickly, she tried her hardest to steady her uneven breathing, the air suddenly thick and stifling. "You have every right to be mad at me, to hate me, to want to make me pay. I was wrong…cruel. I taunted you, I hurt you, I used you. And I liked it." Taking in a deep breath, she dipped one finger deep inside herself, feeling dizzy at the sensation of losing control while also simultaneously gaining it back. "I'm sorry." Leaning back, her chained hand burning and protesting its cuff, she shook her free one out of his limp grasp, watching him as she slowly and purposefully fucked herself, drawing her finger in and out in slow and deliberate movements—a slightly hysterical and giddy feeling taking over her at the complete nosedive her resolve took.
"I'm fucked up, I've been fucked up for most my life…I don't know how to deal with things…emotional, painful, scary things. I hit this point where I just shut down and close everything and everyone out that matters most. I did it that night in Neverland. I fucked you because I was confused. I fucked you because I needed release, I fucked you because it was easy."
Shifting her angle slightly, dimly enjoying the way his face hardened, the surprise there fading way to lust, she purposely ignored the voices in her head that were still stubbornly crying out at the sudden change in her actions. Her fingers moving nearly of their own accord now, a broken gasp escaped her lips as her body began to tremble.
"What are you doing?" his voice was gruff and hoarse, his body shifting away from her—whether it was to put some distance between them or to get a better view she was uncertain.
She really didn't care.
"Exactly what you asked me to…I'm fucking myself."
"Why?"
"Because it's the middle of the night and I'm chained to my bed, I'm tired and still kinda pissed and…" she paused, her fingers stilling inside of her as a grave laugh bubbled up from her throat. "And I really don't have a fucking clue."
He didn't say anything right away—for a moment he appeared lost and confused; the dark power and control that had practically radiated from him earlier in near visible waves fading away. His breathing fast, his body almost vibrating, he stared at her hard from under heavy lidded eyes, almost as if trying to figure out what ace she had up her sleeve—what the catch was. And for a moment, she wondered if her submission, her eager participation, had killed the mood for him. He had been so set on being sinister and brooding and angry and threatening—if she complied easily, willingly…enthusiastically…then there was no way for him to break her as he had wanted.
"Add another finger lass."
His voice tearing her from her musings, she flashed her eyes to his and then, without hesitation, without allowing herself a chance to think it through, she added another finger; stretching herself greedily as she once again picked up the pace, pumping her fingers in and out of herself fast, still clueless as to how she'd gotten to this point in the first place.
"Does that feel good Emma?"
Her brain still jumbled, she nodded slowly, her eyes threatening to close as she fingered herself—the thrill of him watching her dimly registering in her head. "Yes."
"Do you wish it was my cock?"
She felt her walls clench at his words, her fingers faltering for a moment before sliding deeper inside, her wetness coating her fingers as she continued to move them. "Yes."
"Think about it…think about me darling. Fucking you, licking you, having you in every way imaginable."
The moan that tore up from her throat surprised her, but suddenly unable to deny the pressure that was building inside of her—had been building inside of her for some time now—she merely began to finger herself harder, faster, wondering if and when he'd undo her cuff and fuck her like they both so clearly wanted.
"I want you to ride me and then I want you to give up control and let me take you from behind. I want to slam my cock into you until you beg me to stop…until it's too much…until you feel as though you're about to break."
"Oh God." She whispered her body trembling as images of his words danced in her head, driving her fingers to move faster—her chained arm pulling against its cuff with her movements. She wished she had access to her other hand, the need to fondle herself more thoroughly running through her hot and fast.
"I want to use my tongue on you. I want it buried deep inside of you, teasing you, tasting you."
He sounded so far away, her eyes unfocused, her ears ringing. "Fuck."
"Taste yourself Emma…let me see you taste yourself."
She wasn't sure what she was doing anymore. She couldn't tell right from wrong, light from dark, good from evil. The whirlwind of emotions, the chaotic tailspin of events—how she went from angry, to hating him, to wanting him, to heeding his every request—fogging her brain and leaving her nearly weak and breathless. But regardless of her mind's cluttered resistance and her body's infuriating treachery—the words had just barely left his mouth before she found herself licking her juices from her fingers, the tangy taste only turning her on and fueling her desire even more. And frantic for relief, she buried them back inside of her needing to let go…
Needing something.
"You want me Emma."
"Yes."
"You want me to break you."
Yes. No. Stop. More.
"Say it." His voice, honeyed and smooth lured her to confess it—enticing her and drawing her deeper into the darker realms of her desires.
"Yes." The admission was whispered, shame and need filling her tone.
"Say it."
"I—I want you to break me."
"Say it again."
"I want you to break me."
"Again."
"I want you to…" Her voice broke off on a whimpered moan, her fingers halting as her mind cleared for one brief relief filled moment.
No!
Something white and angry flashed before her eyes, breaking through the gray and black colors that were clouding her vision, opening her eyes and leaving her gasping as realization dawned inside of her.
"Say it again Emma."
"I…"
"Emma—"
"No."
"Emma!"
"God dammit Killian no! I don't want this! I want you to…I want you to free me… forgive me dammit…I want you to…" her voice faltered and hitched; the world feeling as if it were tilting and spinning beneath her, she shook her head fast. "No! I don't want you to break me. I want you to fix me!"
As the breathy nearly sobbed words left her lips, she felt her eyes widen abruptly, shock humming through her system and vibrating throughout her body as her plea hung in the room, resonating soundly. Straightening suddenly— her eyes finding his, her fingers still lodged deep inside her wet heat, her breathing stuttering and her heart clenching—his words from earlier replayed in her head, echoing hauntingly.
I intend to force you to admit to things you never thought yourself capable of acknowledging in the confines of that pretty little head of yours…let alone out loud…to me.
"Hook…" she rasped, his moniker tasting bitter on her tongue as she nearly sagged against him under the weight of her revelation—his statement continuing to echo as her blurted confession sunk in. "You…I—"
He didn't give her a chance to finish. Surging forward he crushed his lips to hers, silencing her words and capturing her in a kiss that tasted of resentment, want, and terrifyingly overwhelming all-consuming need. Her breath catching in her throat, her head spinning, and her body sparking; she returned the kiss without thought, her lips moving over his near desperately and opening up for him eagerly as his tongue slipped in to duel with hers. Here for a brief moment—since this whole warped thing between them had started—she found equality, giving as good as she got. They moved together in synch; their breathing coming in and out in pants, their bodies straining into each other, grunts and moans colliding together in erotic and muttered sounds.
And then, almost as soon as it had started, the kiss ended.
Pulling back from her, his expression unfocused, his stare hazy and glazed over, Hook blinked rapidly, his chest heaving, as his eyes searched hers quickly, seemingly looking for something anxiously...answers, redemption, salvation. And then, apparently finding it, without so much as a word, he pushed away from her hastily, his body stiff and his gaze averting hers as he lifted himself off the bed.
"Until next time love."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving just as quickly as he had come.
Panting heavily, her heart feeling as though it could beat straight out of her chest at any second, Emma stared at the door as it shut gently behind his retreating form. Her mind reeling, she leaned against her crumpled pillows, lifting a shaky hand to her head as she settled back. And it was as she was going to rub her temples that she realized with vague surprise, that pressed into the palm of her hand was the key to her cuffs, the metal digging into her skin so forcefully that she was shocked she hadn't felt it before.
Her eyes drifting to her closed bedroom door, she replayed the night's events in her head—the actions, the threats, the confessions, the realizations. She still couldn't quite grasp what had happened—whether he had left because he had got what he had come for or whether he had fled because more had been revealed than either of them had been prepared for.
Everything inside of her at war once again; her mind shouted that it didn't matter what had happened, pointing out that it was far from normal and anything but acceptable. And meanwhile, her heart protested the argument—the two of them were a far cry from ordinary, their walls and defenses anything but easily penetrable. While both their actions were wanton and more than a little immoral, it whispered that maybe the outcome of this whole fucked up thing would prove to be worth it.
Maybe from all this dark depravity would come something more. Something bigger, than either of them could have ever hoped for.
Or maybe he'd just end up breaking her.
Phantom words and ghost touches blanketing her senses, Emma attempted to shift her focus back to the cuffs and told herself that tomorrow, the next day…soon…she'd force herself to figure everything out.
Her trembling fingers fumbling to release her, it took nearly a full minute to rid herself of the metal's harsh and pinching grasp.
And running her hands down her half-naked body, it took less than that for her to finish off the job she had started, coming with his face flashing before her eyes and his name spilling from her lips.
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Not gonna lie...I'm excited for the next chapter ;)