Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT.
Summary: Emma had never met someone as infuriating as the captain of the Jolly Roger in her 28 years of being a talented thief. When he requires her help to find a dagger to "skin" the Dark One as he likes to say, what she's really agreeing to is late night fights, breaking her walls, falling in love, oh, and winning the war with her parents she knew nothing about. Emma Swan doesn't know what she should be mad about. How about that coin purse he tried to steal that started this whole thing….
Warnings: This is AU. There is no Curse. Hook returns to the Enchanted Forest from Neverland when Emma is 28. Emma is still an orphan. Reasons being that I prefer her to have that lost boy/lost girl connection with Hook. Henry does exist and will be explained for as the story progresses.
A/N: HAPPY THURSDAY! I am two reviews from 100… But it's okay because I know I'll make it with this powerful one! :D YAY YOU GUYS ARE AMAZINGGGGGGG.
One more week of school~ OH OH OH guess what? I finished the timeline and structure for this fic :D we're looking at a possible 40 chapters! Unless my muse decides to deviant from time to time… adding or subtracting a few chapters… Thanks for sticking through with me! Here's another loaded one! Also… take caution: This is where you will find the M rating's footing. Enjoy!
"How does she fair?"
"No improvement."
"Bloody fucking hell, it's been days."
It was hot again. Sweltering, with dry air invading her bruised lungs. At least this time she was somewhat comfortable…
"Perhaps he oiled it in poison."
"If that be the case I'd be in bed as well, happily alongside her…"
Something cool touched her face.
"How is her son?"
"Livid with me. His temper is just as bad as his mother's."
There was a small chuckle. "They're all each other has. You understand that, remember?"
"Aye, but I try not to."
They sounded familiar. She was safe, then, right?
Her hand crept to the pressure that skittered along her forehead. She didn't know what to expect. It was cold and hot at the same time. When her fingers brushed against foreign skin, the pressure vanished with the skin ripping away from her. The wet cloth felt like heaven and she moved it along her face in a drowsy motion. Everything was hazy. Did she hit her head?
"Swan…"
Who called her that? Her name was Emma.
Odette… the children of her childhood… No, Emma Swan was 'Swan Princess' in those years… Never just Swan… except…
New pressure applied to her face. A hand with cool rings. The thumb caressed the curve of her cheek. She blinked her eyes open, the blur of her vision started to disperse. The only thing that was even remotely clear was the bright blue orbs… similar to…
The sea she was riding on.
"Hook…" she croaked, wincing from the pain of her cotton throat.
He flashed her a grin, the white of his teeth taking up space in her haze.
"Hey, beautiful."
"What happened?" she tried to move up and hissed sharply as pain boiled up the right side of her body.
Another hand, obviously not Hook's as his only one was still caressing her face, pushed her back down. They nudged her on to her other side and lifted her shirt, gently prodding the source of her pain. She was bandaged with torn strips of cloth and saw the fringe of thin strings peeking out from under the cloth. Emma closed her eyes and groaned as a smaller degree of pain blossomed.
"You were stabbed. With a sword that sadly wasn't my own." Unable to help herself in her weak state, she snorted a chuckle and watched as his eyes widened a fraction. "I think it's quite clear, she's still trying to collect herself. You've never laughed at my jests before, Swan."
Emma remembered. The other pirate ship, the red flag, the older man who looked almost identical to Hook…
She sighed, as they let her lay on her back again and leaned into his palm. Why was it still there? He was too hot as well…but…it was strangely soothing on her clammy skin. "It was a bit funny…"
Finally, her vision was clear.
Emma lifted a hand, he didn't pull away, and traced her weak fingers against his scar.
"Where did you get this one?" the corner of his mouth picked up. He pushed her hand back to the bed.
"That's a story for another time, love. You need more rest."
He picked up a tumbler and held it to her lips as she took cautious sips of the cool, fresh water. She closed her eyes as it quenched her parched throat. Bliss,
"I'm tired of resting… how long have I been out?"
"Only four days."
"Only four days?"
"Aye. Not very good at staying awake through a little battle wound, are you, Swan?"
He removed himself from her side and she almost grabbed at him to stay. She bit the inside of her cheek to give her brain a firm 'no'. Her body appeared to ache for a whole other reason, almost begging for her to ask for him to return to her. It was such an odd sensation that she wondered if he lingered by her side the entire time she was out.
She watched him watch her, backing away with his hand holding his buckle. He looked… so… No, don't finish that thought. Good lord, was everything rushing back to her? Emma cleared her freshly satiated throat and looked anywhere but him.
There was a small splash at her side and she looked at the other man beside her, giving a tender smile.
"Jameson."
He returned her smile. "Miss Swan. Pleasure to have you back." He wrung the cloth and replaced the other one on her forehead. Their fingers grazed again and she gripped his fingers tightly to reassure him and herself that she was well and appreciated his caring nature.
There was a sound of someone stomping their foot. Both of them looked to Hook who now had a foot resting back on the weight bearing post. He shrug his shoulders and looked just as clueless as they did, but then Emma saw Jameson bow and shake his head, his shoulders quaking from silent laughter. What…?
Emma shook her head as well. "Where's Henry?"
"In your cabins. I didn't think it right for the boy to watch his mother struggle with surviving a battle wound." Said Hook
"I didn't struggle…" this time Jameson's laugh wasn't silent. He waved off her glare with a choked 'forgive me' and returned to cooling her face. "Regardless… my thanks."
"'Tis nothing, milady."
Jameson stood, dusting his pants, his good natured smile still plaster on his lips. "You must be terribly hungry. I'll run some food from the galley."
Hook nodded his mate out while Emma tried to sit up.
"Oi, keep your back to the bed. We took extra care in stitching your wound."
Emma waved the comment off weakly and propped herself against the headboard. She lifted her shirt and winced at the angry red skin creeping from the bandages. This was her first serious stitching in years, she only hoped the pirates knew what they were doing and didn't leave behind an infection. But then again, they were led by a captain who used rum to cure just about anything. He had tidied up her shoulder before.
"Is it really that bad?"
The captain shrugged, fingering his hook. "We've had worse."
She released the edge of the shirt and noticed it was not her usual white ones. This one was shear and black, fit for a frame similar to her own.
"Whose shirt is this?" she buried her nose in the collar. It smelled as if it was recently removed from a chest, old and unused.
He was taking a second too long to answer. She looked up at him, catching the melancholy look in his eyes. When he realized he had been caught, he scratched the back of his ear and diverted his eyes from her gaze.
"Milah's." He turned his back to her and sat at his desk.
Emma, felt something bloom in her. It was…strangely romantic that he still kept his love's belongings after her passing. But there was something else there… Something that she couldn't find another name for other than jealousy and she didn't know where it was running.
"You still keep her things…"
"Aye."
She played with the hem of the shirt. If she still owned something of Neal's, would she ever give it out to a stranger? To keep warm? Possibly not… Her hand itched to reach for her necklace. "I didn't think you'd give something like that out to someone it didn't belong to."
"Normally, I don't. I'd rather have you in mine own but Jameson felt it to be uncalled for." Emma giggled. Of course.
"Good ol' Jameson."
A soft pop came from his direction. "Aye. And a righteous prat when he wants to be."
Emma rolled her eyes and snuggled her head into her pillows. "Do you ever stop drinking?"
"This one is called for," he waved the flask at her before taking a drink from its contents.
She shook her head. Pirates and their rum.
A shiver then coursed through her as a darker face and a must sinister smile invaded her thoughts."So… your father… didn't expect piracy to run in your blood."
The chair screeched against the floorboard as he propped his feet on the table with little grace. She flinched and settle deeper into the pillows. Perhaps she shouldn't have said that. Hook and his father clearly weren't on good terms. It was obvious with all the sword fighting and threats she witnessed before being stabbed. God was she so weak she no longer knew how to bite her tongue?
It was so strange to her, being out at sea, running around with one legend and then learning that his father was a darker legend. She and many other children of the realm grew up listening to both their tales, how adventurous yet dangerous the men were. Never did she think that the legends would be related, but given that no one knew Hook's real name in this generation, it must've been easier for him to just shrug it off like a pair of shoes he hated. Hook had no name in their stories. He was only known as Captain Hook, a villain who lost his humanity.
"I wish not to speak of him," was his gruff reply.
She nodded, but with her memories returning at full force of what happened on the deck, she was as curious as a cat.
"How about Liam? You all kept mentioning him."
"Swan." A warning tone. She saw his grip tighten on the flask.
"You weren't always a pirate, were you?" she pressed, brushing her matted hair over her shoulders. She wrinkled her nose at the texture. The blood was gone but it was still covered in old sweat. Of course the men would ignore her long hair when patching her up. "I can see it. In addition to what everyone's been saying. The way you fight, how you hold yourself. The way you dress even, no matter how dark and eccentric it may be."
He looked at her over his shoulder. There.
"How much more of my past do I have to reveal to you, Swan, to get you to trust me with your own?"
Emma drew her lips within her mouth. She was prying rather deeply. Deeper than she'd let anyone else do to her. How… she laughed. To be honest, she half wished he would tell her more of himself. There were so many layers to this pirate. So many different layers and moments that shaped him. She could tell from the moment he switched from being a flirtatious man, to a vengeful beast and back within a few seconds, not missing a single beat. At least she understood one layer: he was a passionate man. A man who felt everything within his very soul, but by being a pirate, he had to learn several masks to hide behind. Without telling you, he understood exactly what happened to you, because he had felt and understood your pain. At least, that's how it was for Emma, and it annoyed her as much as it comforted her to no end.
A part of her figured with her being an 'open book' he'd get an understanding of her without her having to reveal anything. She never wanted to speak of her past, it made her relive it—it was much too painful. But he was a man who preferred her to face her fears and problems instead of running from them. He was a man who did that for a living.
"You're right."
"And you're afraid. Afraid to talk. To reveal yourself. To bloody trust me." He gave her such an incredulous look that she challenged him back with a hearty glare.
See? He understands perfectly.
They stared at each other and the pressure made Emma sank deeper in her pillows, feeling as if he was trying to break down her walls. He was taunting her, waiting for her. But what the hell was there to talk about? She still didn't feel comfortable talking about Neal, about her life. To this… man who wanted to see her beyond her walls. It was gut wrenching for her.
He smacked his lips sharply and stood.
"Going somewhere?"
"Anywhere is a lot more pleasing than being in the same room with you, you infuriating woman." He slammed the door shut just as her tumbler sailed over and smashed to pieces.
She grit her teeth at the pain of moving, hearing Hook's leave and Jameson's return.
Asshole.
"Mom, you might need to cut your hair."
"Don't tell me something like that," she hissed as he encountered yet another mass of tangles with her comb.
"It's just hair…"
"It's my hair!"
Henry giggled behind her and nudged her head to the bucket to rinse her hair again.
"How's everything been going?" she asked him, wanting to move the subject from the dreadful thought of having to cut her hair. Hook had finally let her son in to see her, falling and tripping over her threats of moving and reopening her wounds just to find her son.
When Henry flew to her arms, she smothered him with kisses while he cried in her neck. Cursing her for almost leaving him alone. The whole time, Hook was watching them. Watching her. And in fear that he'd send her son back out, she bit back the pain that racked her body from hugging her son.
"Fine. The others have healed their wounds already. The ship's finally slowed down. We'll be at Port Royal within a week or so."
Emma frowned. If she drew up her mental map of the realm, Port Royal should have been another month's journey by ship. Port Jefferson was equidistant from their village and Port Royal, how was that possible?
Henry gave her a toothy grin. "Enchanted ship, remember mom."
Very enchanted it seemed. Emma rolled her eyes.
"If that be the case, you would think that the captain would've hauled us to Port Royal then."
Once that stubborn knot was removed, Henry soaked her hair once last time before rubbing out the dampness with a towel.
"Hook's been sleeping."
Emma snorted. "So?"
Her son gave an exasperated sigh and she had a mind to turn over and flick him between the eyes. "Remember what Robin and Friar Tuck said about magic? It always comes with a price. Hook's been using the enchantment on the ship to get us out faster but it's taking all of his energy. He's only seen for half a day at the helm before stumbling off for a nap."
Well… that certainly made sense. "Where's he been sleeping?" She only saw the captain once or twice since she awoke. Jameson had been the one to check on her, redress her wound and bring her food. They only made small talk as he only arrived to wake her and help her fall back asleep after she ate and was redressed. It was Hook's quarters, yet he was nowhere to be found. She never felt the bed dip to extra weight either.
"First mate's quarters. Smee's been a little grumpy." They snorted a laugh together.
Henry crawled into her lap, wrapped his arms around her neck, and gave her a kiss on her cheek. She returned the hug and kiss, feeling her heart warm up so much she feared it would burst.
"Love you, mom."
"Love you too, kiddo."
Henry was so terrified that she was going to leave him alone in this world. She promised him, the moment the wet nurse placed him in her arms, she would never leave him. She would fight through the Netherworld to find her way back to him.
They stayed in their warm position for hours, talking about just almost anything. What Henry would learn in the Royal Palace (sword fighting, jousting, courting), how true the stories of the King and Queen's kindness were, where the sea would take them, what other dangerous adventures they'd have left at sea…
They spoke until dusk, when Henry finally fell asleep allowing his mother some rest as well. It was a fitful sleep, but she could hardly bring herself to wake the wonderful son she had curled up in her arms.
Emma shifted closer to the little warm body beside her. She buried her nose in his soft brown hair and let out a sleepy smile. She only wished she could give him more warmth, it was past nightfall, it was starting to get chilly in the quarters. She closed the window minutes ago, even pulled the curtains shut, hoping that would stop the cold air from entering.
There was a shuffle in front of them.
Old instincts revived from her childhood of living on the streets. Her eyes snapped half open to trick any intruders and she pulled Henry closer to her. He mumbled something, snuggling his face closer in the crook of her neck. It was almost pitch black, still well into the night, save for a single candle lit on the desk that she never touched.
The light that illuminated from it was small but enough for her to see a dark silhouette approach them. She almost shouted, until she felt something soft but heavy fall over them. A blanket.
The floorboards creaked as weight shifted above it. The shadow crouched down, pulling the comforter up to their chins. Emma bit back a gasp when she saw the hook, glinting in the orange light.
Hook stood, walking back to the desk. He picked up the candle and blew it out.
Not before Emma spotted the most wistful look she had ever seen on the man's face.
"So… I heard you've been sleeping on the job," she giggled when he choked on his aged wine.
He dabbed his lips in such a gentlemanly way that Emma had to bite her cheek to stop the next fit of giggles.
"Who told you?" he hummed, trying to be cool, but Emma witnessed the smallest tinge of pink tickle his cheeks.
"People who you can't threaten—my only two guests." She raised a brow at him while he stared at her, rubbing his thumb and middle fingers together.
Today, most of her strength had returned to her. She started moving around his quarters to stretch out her weak joints and allowing her curiosity of her captain get the best of her.
He was neurotic, that was certain. Everything had a place in his quarters. All the 'changes' she made to the room when she cleaned up after him were gone, items back in their seemingly rightful place. Including the rum she hid. There was one area where kept his jewels, another his maps—all filled and in order from regular simple maps to treasure maps—and another his letters. And it was all neat. Feeling mischievous, she purposely shuffled his maps and left the drawer ajar. The first thing he did when he arrived to have lunch with her was bustle over to his drawer, casting deadly glares her way as he fixed the small mess she made.
Numerous times he muttered, "Bad form, Swan."
During her poking and prodding of his cabin, she noticed a stench surrounding her that she just couldn't stand. She didn't want the captain to pester her about it, humiliating her no doubt, so, she hunted for extra clothes to change into. She never found where he hid Milah's, as she would have preferred to walk in women's clothing than Hook's. But with the trail leading to dead ends she couldn't afford to be a choosy beggar. After scrubbing herself clean, she had no choice but to slip one of his shirts on, hoping that he would never notice the difference. Milah's shirt was sheer, his was lightweight, and since he was much larger than her, his shirt practically fell off of her, given the deep neckline in the front that was mean to show off his chest. To make it less obvious, she tied the shirt in the back, forcing the neckline to shrink.
"Your necklace, the swan. Where did you get it?" it was a sudden observation and at the mention of it, Emma's hand drifted up to finger it. "It's a simple trinket but I never see you without it."
She inhaled deeply. "It's uhm…" her other hand clenched to a fist in her lap.
"And perhaps every time you question my motives, you reach for it. Any special meaning?" Observant fellow…
"It's… a reminder." When she said nothing else, he shook his hook to tell her to continue. "I… It was a gift, from Henry's father… I was young and foolish. That's all."
"Ah, he hurt you."
Emma shut her eyes, letting a small remorseful smile slip forth. "Yes…"
The memories and pain returned. Not as full force as it had a tendency to when she was forced to remember, but enough that she could feel it. She tried to continue eating, but found her hands were shaking too much for her to hold utensils. She dropped them all together and leaned back, her hand back to fingering the necklace.
"My apologies. I didn't mean to upset you."
"No. No, no, no, it's not your fault. You didn't know and you were just curious." She bowed her head and stared at the loose thread of his shirt. "And hopefully, you're nothing like him…He's possibly… alive. Out there, somewhere. I don't know. I—he left me, by choice. I was waiting to tell him that I was pregnant with Henry, and he never came back. He tried to set me up, to make me take the fall for one of his failures. Thankfully I wasn't bulging with my son yet. I could still slip through cracks and outrun anyone who wasn't a thief."
She cleared her throat as images whirled past her. She saw his lopsided grin that he shared with Henry. Saw his short hair that would wave and curl when he grew it out. His bright brown eyes that would wrinkle when he smiled. How happy he seemed when he saw her, when they completed a raid together, when they had no one else in the realm but each other. He found the necklace, pure silver, in a lock box they came across in a nobleman's home. He stole it, professing his young love for her without words other than "I got you a necklace. I thought it'd be perfect for you."
A little swan to fit her name.
She told Hook the rest of her story. How in love she was, how they met, how she would've have done anything for him. For…
"What was his name?"
She laughed softly. It was such an odd name… and she had heard odder ones before, what with living in the Enchanted Forest, but his was so curious.
"His name was Neal. Odd name, don't you think?"
She looked up at Hook. His chin was propped up in his hand and his eyes were an odd shade of blue. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.
"Aye, fit for the man though, don't you think? The man kneeled to the tests the gods given him, to the hand of pressure. Leaving a woman who he proclaimed to love behind with his child? And to take the brunt of his crime—" He shook his head and indicated for her to continue. He looked flustered. "It's very bad form."
Emma bit her lip. "I've been abandoned so many times in my life… I had learned how to cope with them. No one stayed or helped for too long… but Neal's hurt the most because… I..."
She had cried for days, huddling in a hovel that barely protected her from the rain and storms. She couldn't return to the home they had made. It was surrounded by men of the sheriff, all of them with weapons. She had snuck in only to retrieve her valuables and left with haste. She was back to struggling. Sneaking food, fencing random items she found, stealing warm beds. Anything to keep her and her unborn child alive. It was easier for her that she was such a skilled thief, but it was still hard. She was always hungry, having to feed for two instead of one. Within her last months, when it became impossible to sneak into homes without being loud or fumbling from a sharp kick Henry gave her, she started to lose hope that she would be able to have her child alive.
On one last pickpocket chase, she met Robin and his Merry Men who took her under their wings.
She felt a tear roll down her cheek and immediately rushed to wipe it away. She sniffled and pushed her hair from her face. "It's a reminder… that I can't trust anyone."
She picked up her fork and placed some meat on her tongue. It was dry, lost all of its flavor in her emotion. There was anger, sadness, disappointment… All the emotions she once felt eleven years ago rushing back to her that she wanted to scream but she didn't. At least this time, she could handle it. She dropped the fork again and rest her forehead in her hand. "I want to hate him so much… But he had given me someone else so full of love that I can't help but thank him every now and then."
"Don't."
The tone was heavy, angered beyond words. So deep that it rumbled through the bones in her body. She looked up, catching the loathing in Hook's eyes. Her mouth fell slightly.
"He had nothing to do with your son other than giving you his seed. Henry grew without that coward. He became the boy he is under your nurturing. That's not Neal's touch. That's yours."
Emma shook her head. "You've seen my son. You see how he is. He's so trusting, a believer in everyone and everything that's good."
"Then perhaps, you did as well when you were young." Perhaps…
As she grew older, Emma learned to fog the happier memories of her past. It was painful, remembering a time you were happy in a time you were losing hope, it made her fall lower into a dark whole. When living with the older woman, she trusted Odette and believed her stories. Believed in goodness and true love. She trusted the villagers who watched out for her and the strangers who passed through. She once believed the snotty little brats who pushed her to do daring things that involved approaching magical creatures and silly folk lore. When she was little, before Odette was taken from her, she believed that there was only good in the world, that everyone, including the evil ones, only needed a little love in their life to live peacefully.
But then she became a lost child in a realm that no one wanted to care for.
"…Yes."
"Don't thank him. Never thank a man like him. Forgive him, perhaps, if that brings you some peace. He's damaged you. Aye, you are a great woman now because of what he had done, but you could be so much more if you stop letting him win."
She slammed her palm on the table, furious at him. How dare he…"He's not winning."
"Then trust me."
The gentle rocking of the ship became noticeable to her. The way the muscles in his jaw worked became noticeable to her. The way the light of the setting sun and the small flame of the candle lit his face with a powerful glow became noticeable to her. His eyes were intense, true, and striking, and they held her like strong, comforting arms.
She was now bare, vulnerable to him, and he had become a different man. He didn't taunt her like she expected him to, he encouraged her to leave her walls. Gentle pushes that involved words no man should ever say to her because they were easier men to fight and scare off. Gestures that were genuine and made her heart ache.
"You can't live your whole life not trusting people, Swan. Your bottle will remain half-empty to you"
She tried to snort, to let him know that his words meant nothing to her. But all she could get out was a long exhale of breath. "You don't trust me."
"Actually, I do." He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never wavering from hers. "I trust you to stay and hold your end of our bargain. I trust you to keep me alive, as you have proven once already. I trust you to let me in when you're ready."
A small scoff that she intended to have more power slipped past her lip. "Why you?"
He chuckled and bowed his head, finding the grain of the table interesting. "What man would've helped you? A daft woman looking to give her son a better life by living in the Royal Palace?"
Emma grimaced. It was too easy of a pit to fall into. "You're after a dagger, Hook, you're after your revenge. Something you and I both know is pointless. My son and our welfare truly mean nothing to you."
He didn't react to the biting remark. With a wave of his hand, she noticed age starting to appear on his features. "Aye, I am still seeking for my revenge. Situations seemed to lean towards my favor and I'd be a fool to not take them. But as I'm sure you have noticed, I could've just hauled your arse to Port Royal without a glance. I could've offered you a trip only to Port Jefferson. I did neither. I've… found something interesting in our journey together, Swan."
Emma's mouth was dry. She grabbed her wine and took a sip from it, keeping her eyes on the pirate captain. "And that would be?"
He leaned forward, and she almost leaned back, wanting to get away from this man who made her uneasy but warmed the chill in her bones without touching her. His blue eyes seared through her like a straight arrow, rendering her speechless.
"A troublesome thief who had stolen my black heart."
The ship dipped deeply. There was chattering above them. The boards creaked and groaned. Everything caved her in. Cornering her at his words like the loyal ship and sea they were to their pirate captain.
"Milah…"
"Milah is gone. I love her no less than I did when I last held her in my arms, and I will not stop at nothing until I have split Rumplestiltskin's blood and ended his life." He clenched and unclenched his fist, he drew his bottom lip in his mouth and shook his head. He was as troubled as she was. "But clearly, that doesn't mean I can't harbor some similar feelings to how I once felt all those years ago. I had realized that when that excuse of a man had your hair in his hands, when you were stabbed, when you went into shock, when you seemed to not want to wake up on those four agonizing days you were unconscious."
Emma froze. When did this happen? When she was out of it? When she was almost killed? They spent most of their time avoiding each other—more so her than him—they fought over control and they certainly were not taking that stupid little kiss anywhere else than what it was: a one-time thing. The man sounded so certain yet uncertain of his feelings that it terrified her. He was running with it, a feeling, a gut feeling that he trusted more than he trusted her. All she could do was sigh, "Hook I'm—"
"I'll say no more. You look shaken, love."
She blinked several times, unable to grasp exactly what had happened. He had… had he…confessed to her? It warmed her heart, made her want to cry in fear. He was right, she was shaken, because clearly, no matter how he felt at this moment, neither of them had let go of their past loves just yet. And she wasn't ready for a new one.
Then when will you be?
They remained in silence for several moments, trying to return to their lunch, acting as if everything that was just thrown out onto the table never happened. At least she was anyway. She had no idea what was going on in that pirate's head, never really did, and that annoyed her to no end. She couldn't handle people she couldn't read. He had stopped watching her, finding something else to look at as he took a drink from his goblet and ate his food.
When she reached for a roll in the middle of the table, he snatched her wrist, using his hook to push the large cinched wrist of his shirt that dangled loosely back before it caught on fire from the flame. There was a small grin on his face.
"My dear Swan," his hook flew to the front of the shirt, sinking in the juncture of the neckline, and pulled, releasing the loose knot she made. It immediately drooped, giving him an almost perfect view of her breasts.
Emma squeaked and her hands flew to her chest, hunching over to hide from his gaze. He licked his lips and watched her with those same eyes he had that night in the tavern.
"Did you truly believe I would not notice you wearing one of my shirts?"
Emma pursed her lips and straightened her back, having one hand keep the shirt closed while trying to continue to eat. Of course, he couldn't handle heavy moods without being lewd. Well, he wouldn't win. "I couldn't find… hers."
Hook played with his scruff, looking her up and down, pausing at her legs. She fought the blush that wanted to rise. She couldn't bring it upon herself to put on his pants—one, they were much too long, and two, they were leather, obviously his—so she attended their lunch with her bare legs tucked underneath her. He was busy cleaning his drawer when she jumped into the chair, effectively using the desk to help hide her legs. She wanted to get through lunch without any sexual advances made by the captain but it became apparent that her wish was a faraway dream.
"Of course you won't. I never wanted to give you her clothes." Emma lost the vigor in her bite of the roll, ending up to just nibbling it. Oh, of course not. "While they are flattering on you, seeing you in my shirt with no breeches does far more wonders to a man." His voice dropped several octaves, and his hooded eyes shot through her wide ones.
Emma swallowed her bite and gave him an exasperated look. Her old, lecherous captain had returned. "Keep looking, captain, because that's all you're going to get."
His chair rumbled on the floor as he stood. Emma paused in eating what was left on her plate and watched him as he made his way around the edges of the desk to her side. The gentle sway of the ship wasn't helping her as he looked more voracious, walking tall without stumbling. His presence grew dominating as he stared her down with dark eyes and his fingers lazily trailed a path on the desk as he approached her like a seductive beast from the deepest of fantasies that used his charms and looks to pull in his prey. When he stood next to her, she could feel the heat radiating off his body, the lust that rolled off him similarly to the waves the ship rode, and her palms began to sweat. He wasn't even speaking and he was working his magic on her.
Emma, nonetheless, lifted her whole head to look at him, a firm frown plastered on her face while she glared, trying so hard to ignore the butterflies in her belly. She was anxious he would see past her ruse.
The corner of his mouth quirked up as he placed his left arm behind his back and he reach out a hand. She looked at it like it was poisonous and then back at him with a firm shake of her head. Her response drove him to bend his back so they were on the same eye level. His hand remained extended for her while his tongue toyed with the edge of his exposed teeth.
"So… high strung, Swan. You really should learn to…let go."
Emma leaned forward so their noses were almost touching. His charms would not work on her. His iris almost vanished entirely. "I don't need to 'let go' around you."
Hook chuckled, his tongue darting over his teeth again, a feat that Emma had stupidly followed. His voice went lower, and she had to strain her ears just to hear him. "Oh, but I think you do, Emma."
At the sound of her name in such a lustrous tone she reared back, almost hissing when he followed her. Her breath shook from her lips as he remained so close to her, almost causing her to fall off her chair. His hand now rested on her bare knee, drawing circles closer to the inside of it with the pad of his thumb. She swallowed and tried to gain some ground back, but she was terrified, that if she did, he would only meet her back with more force. She wasn't ready for him, no matter how hard she tried to be.
"What…What makes you so positive?" the firmness in her voice had vanished, every word rolled off her tongue in a whisper and she hated it.
His palm was stoking a pit of fire within her as his hand crept higher up her thigh is such a slow, aching pace, applying pressure during the right times, that she almost moaned. When it grew closer to her hip, her hand jumped down, stopping him before she lost all control. He took a step closer, his scruff grazing her cheek and his breath ghosting over her ear and neck. Dear gods…
"Your reactions, Emma." Her name sounded like sin on his lips. "You try so hard to resist me, but I can see it. I will always see it. It's best you quit now. Give in. I won't bite you too hard…"
She tried to find something, anything, to get him to shut up. His body language, his words, his wandering hand—which, at the moment, was splayed out, groping whatever skin it could find—he was just too good at this game she had little experience in.
"What?" she spat out a lot harsher than she intended. "That whore wasn't enough for you?"
Yes, she was upset that night. It hurt. Having him spout off all those words, causing weird things to course through her when he touched her, and then taking another woman to bed not long after really hurt. Who does that? Pirates, of course.
The looks he gave her that night made her fear she would lose all control if he ever touched her. Thankfully, it was just his hook, and his other actions at the time only angered her instead of tossing her into a lustful cyclone. But when they reached the ship later after a few more drinks, she fell into a restless sleep full of dreams of what he could possibly ever do to her.
Hook barked a laugh in her ear. "Whore? She was an innocent woman, looking for a good time, Emma. Jealous?"
Getting some strength back, she gripped his chin and pushed it away from her ear, forcing him to stare at her dead on again. "Hardly."
The next second she wasn't prepared for.
Within a blink of an eye, he had her on her feet, pressed to flush to his body, his hooked arm was wrapped tight around her waist and his hand cradling the back of her head. He spun them around and forced her back against the wall closest to the windows. She almost shrieked when his lips found her throat and raised bother her hands to try and push him off. But her voice came out in a very guttural moan when his knee nestled itself between her thighs. Her fingers gripped his biceps tight, feeling ways she hadn't felt in a long time, with the core of her belly coiling tight.
He trailed open mouth kisses up to her ear lobe where he bit and suckled. Emma cursed him to hell and back when she started to melt over his leg. He loosed a dark chuckle in her ear. He knew from the first time.
"Would you like to know what I did to the bar wench? How I took her? How good she felt wrapped around my cock? However, I'm almost certain you would feel much tighter."
"God, you're crude," Emma turned her face towards his, feeling a craving for his lips, hoping that he would kiss her, devour her. Instead, he ducked his head and returned to her throat. She slapped his arm and bit back another moan.
"Is that a yes?"
"Hook I'm wounded!"
"I'm told that…certain activities have enough powers to quicken healing."
"That's the stupidest thing I had ever heard." She yelped when his hand reach forward for his shirt, pulling it down and exposing her breasts to him. She fumbled to close the shirt around herself but he pressed the whole length of his body to her, giving her no room to cover herself.
"Care to try it out? Swan? I've noticed some rather fascinating things about you."
Emma reach up and gripped her fingers in his hair, yanking it back and away from her. She had hoped he had a dagger or something on his person, but found nothing threatening to hold to his throat.
"Stop, Hook. I mean it."
A grin grew on his face. His hand slipped under her shirt and his nails scratched the skin, trailing to her undergarments. She bit the inside of her cheek as he toyed with the top of it, trying to stop herself from allowing her eyes and head to roll back and just let him have his wicked way with her.
"Why, dear Emma? When you're so responsive?"
When her fingers loosened, he dipped his head back down, taking her collarbone between his lips. "Let go, Emma. Let your walls fall for once."
There was a sharp knock.
Emma shoved him back, her feet falling back on the floor when he actually went in a direction she wanted him to go. Her palms pressed themselves flat against the wall, using whatever strength she had left to not collapse what with her shaking legs. His blue eyes darted to her chest. Her very bare chest. Immediately, her hands shot back up to cover herself, but he was quicker. He lunged forward and held her hands above her head. Raising his left arm, the curve of his cold hook followed the curve of her left breast, bringing forth a shiver, goosebumps, and a pebbled nipple. He smirked, delving deep into her eyes that she almost forgot everything around them.
There was another knock, and without missing another second he answered, his voice clear of the lust that bled from him and onto her. "Aye?"
The man behind the door spoke, but Emma heard none of it, because Hook dipped his head for a deep kiss. He swallowed her moan and held her up before she fell straight to the floor. Damn him. Damn his hand, his lips, damn all of him. He tasted far too good.
He swiped his tongue over her lips, biting and suckling them, and then soothing them after. She caved. She pressed close to him, wanting more of his dangerous kiss. When he released her hands, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer while her fingers threaded through his hair.
She fought against him in the kiss, wanting control over him, wanting more against the wishes of the angered voice in her head. She did everything she could, biting his lips, rubbing her body against his, anything to hear that she was doing to him was he was doing to her.
Then her nails raked down his neck and he moaned, low and deep and washing over her.
What was she doing… They weren't supposed to kiss anymore. She made that very clear. Hadn't she?
He pulled back and she tried to follow, enticing a deep chuckle from him. She was able to steal one last kiss before he held her at bay, his hand and hook forcing her arms at her sides.
"I'll attend to the situation in just a second Mr. Smee." He said as he tucked a blond lock behind her ear.
"What…" she whispered.
Hook kissed her cheek and pulled away. "Don't miss me too much, darling."
She watched him leave as she slid down the wall, her body limp but ablaze and very much unsatisfied. He gave her one last look with a smirk. "You seemed to enjoy it. There's plenty more where that came from, Emma Swan. You need but to ask."
This time, as conflicted as she was, she herself pushed a stone from her wall.
Please please please review :D It's my cookie during this finals week!