A pirate should not skulk. Especially the most infamous and feared pirate in all the realms, Captain Hook. Yet Killian could not help himself. There were probably a dozen other things he could – and should – be doing, but at that precise moment Killian gave them no thought. All he could see was Emma Swan smiling and laughing with an attractive blond man at the counter of that quaint ridiculous place they called a diner. And it made his blood boil in a way he had not felt such a very long time.
It was ridiculous, really. Emma Swan meant nothing to him. She'd been a means to an end, nothing more. Three times she had bested him and three times he vowed it would never happen again. So why in the bleeding hell was he skulking in a dark alley across the street watching her? He had a purpose in this world: his revenge on Rumplestiltskin. It was all he'd thought about, dreamt about for three hundred years. And now ever since coming to this world, Killian found himself more and more drawn to the blond lass. He was furious with her and more importantly, he was furious with himself. This had to stop.
Killian marched across the street and entered the diner, the bell jangling. Most of the patrons stared at him as walked by; it was likely due to the fact that Killian still wore his pirate garb. So far he'd been reluctant to change into more...appropriate clothing. His clothes and his ship were all he had left of his previous life and he'd be damned if he was giving up either.
The stir did not phase Emma, however. She hadn't even bothered to look when he'd entered; she as absorbed in her conversation. Killian clenched his jaw. How dare she ignore him?
The conversation abruptly stopped. With a start, Emma turned to look at him. Killian saw the shock, fear and something else he couldn't identify swirl in her stormy blue green eyes. It only lasted for the briefest of moments, then she pushed it away.
“What are you doing here, Hook?” she asked, her voice deadly calm.
“I needed to have a word with you, lass.”
“How did you get here? The portal closed behind us.”
“Is this really a conversation you want to have here, love? I'd hate for things to get messy.”
An older woman appeared from the back, holding a cross bow. “Is he bothering you, Emma?”
Emma spared her the briefest of glances. “It's fine, Granny. I got this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Do me a favor though? Call Mary Margaret and tell her I'll be late.”
Oh, she was smart. In one fell swoop, Emma ensured the safety of the diner patrons and made sure that someone knew to look for her if she was missing too long. Her ability to think on her feet was something Killian was coming to admire about the wayward princess.
“Shall we?” Emma said, indicating the door.
“After you,” Killian replied. He eyed Emma's companion just before he followed her out. He looked entirely too bland and vanilla. What could he have been saying that was so bloody interesting?
Killian followed Emma across the street; quickly, she ducked into his dark alley. Before he could get so much as a word out, she rounded on him.
“What game are you playing, Hook? And how did you even get here?”
“That is no concern of yours, princess.”
Emma scowled. “I think Captain Hook arriving in my town intent on revenge is very much my business.”
“Is that why you abandoned me on the beanstalk, love? To protect that monster?” he said, venom lacing his words. Almost imperceptibly, he started to advance on her.
To Killian's surprise, Emma looked hurt. “Leaving you had nothing to do with Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered.
“Then why? It better be a good reason because otherwise it's just very bad form.” He had nearly backed her into the dirty brick wall. Three more steps and she was there. He placed his hand and his hook on either side of her head, the barest hint of a threat in his icy blue eyes. After long seconds passed with no answer, he leaned in next to her hear and whispered, “Answer me, love.”
But Emma stood her ground and stared right back. “Why do you even care, Hook? You got what you wanted. Why don't you just take your vengeance? Why are you bothering me?”
Killian closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds, reluctant to answer her. Being this close to her was doing things to him that under different circumstances would be quite pleasant. But he had no need of that now; all he wanted to do was put this blasted woman behind him so he could get back to his mission.
Emma knew an escape route when she saw one and ducked under his arms, out of his grasp. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the moment she was no longer in front of him. He spun on his heel catching her arm with his hook, yanking her back before she got five paces. The force of it brought her lithe body flush with his; he tried mightily to ignore how good she felt there as well as how her pupils dilated. Clearly, he wasn't the only one affected by her proximity.
“Ah, ah, ah, princess. We have unfinished business, you and I.”
“Yeah, as in I haven't finished kicking your ass yet. Let me go, Hook.”
“Not until you answer my very simple question.”
Emma eyed him warily. Then she glanced around, as if looking for either a weapon or an escape route. Finally, her eyes alighted on his hook. He saw her do what so many had done before, try to calculate their speed against the sharpness of his hook. And like those men before her, Emma relaxed ever so slightly, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor.
“How do I know you're not just going to kill me after I've told you?,” she asked, clearly stalling. But that was fine, he could play her game. For now.
“You don't,” he said, as he traced her cheek with his thumb. He had no intention of killing her; he just needed to get the truth out of her. “As I said before, try something new. It's called trust, my dear Swan.”
“I'm not your love or your dear, Hook.”
“And who's are you, Swan? That callow youth I saw you with? He's unworthy of you, lass,” he said, his voice hard.
Emma scoffed. “Is that where the sudden attention is coming from? Are you jealous?”
Killian could not have been more stunned if she'd hit him. Jealous? Him? That was utterly absurd. Killian Jones had never been jealous over a woman in all his life. Whenever he wanted someone, he got them. His looks, charm and gold coins guaranteed that. A woman (or two or three) in every port, that was Killian Jones. The very idea that he was jealous over someone as insignificant as Emma Swan was laughable. And to prove it he kissed her.
That, as it turned out, was a mistake. For the minute, his lips touched hers, he was lost. Completely and utterly rudderless. The feeling only lasted for a few seconds; once Emma's shock abated, she wrenched her mouth away from his and brought her free hand to bear across his face. It stung, but Killian barely felt it. Emma said nothing, however. Her stormy eyes looked as confused as Killian felt. Then, just as he was about to let her go, he felt her hand thread though his hair. His eyes searched hers for some kind of understanding, but there was none.
Suddenly, Emma was kissing him. Kissed him with such passion that Killian was left gasping. She nipped at his bottom lip impatiently demanding entrance. He acquiesced eagerly. Carefully, Killian disentangled his hook from her arm and brought it around her waist, pulling her to him. He could feel Emma's hand on his chest; his skin burned where she touched it. He growled when she abandoned his lips for some much needed air. He peppered her jaw and neck with kisses, pausing occasionally to suck on her pulse point and leaving a scratchy red trail in his wake. With any luck, she'd bear the marks of this tomorrow, marking her as his for all the world to see.
Emma moaned when he got to a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear. It was a sound Killian was eager to replicate as many times as possible. Her grip on him tightened as her lips sought his once more. Killian slipped his good hand under her shirt, ghosting along her taut stomach. She felt divine, but he wanted – no, needed – to see her. As if she read his mind, Emma shrugged out of her jacket letting it fall carelessly to the ground. His hook made quick work of her top, tearing it and the contraption that encased her breasts to shreds, leaving only scraps clinging to her back. Emma stood there, chest heaving, as he drank her in. She was more beautiful than he had imagined.
Killian started to bow his head intent on taking a nipple into his mouth, when Emma stopped him. “Why am I the only one who's half naked here?” she asked, her tone mischievous.
“Well, if you insist, love,” he shot back, grinning.
“I most definitely do.”
In moments, Killian's long coat had fallen to the ground along with his vest and shirt. Emma stepped back to study his bare chest, her eyes lingering on the scars. He itched to have her back in his arms, but he let her look. Her fingers traced each and every scar carefully, moving lower on his torso. His breathing remained shallow as he watched her. Through the haze of lust, Killian became increasingly aware of the less than private location of their sudden tryst. Part of him wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry back to the Roger where he could ravage her properly, but given their current state that was impractical to say the least.
Before Emma could notice his distraction, he grabbed her wrist, halting her exploration. She looked at him questioningly, one eyebrow raised. In answer, Killian captured her lips with his, kissing her fiercely as he backed her into the wall again. Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her. Killian ran his hand down the length of her torso, taking a brief pause to fondle her breast. There was so much he wanted to do to her, but this was neither the time nor the place. Next time, he promised himself.
Seconds later, he reached his prize. He cupped her through her pants; the heat of her was scorching. She bucked her hips into his hand, her impatience evident. Killian was all to willing to oblige her. He fumbled only a little as he managed to unclasp the unfamiliar garment; he was further distracted by Emma's mouth moving along his neck and collarbone. Her kisses left a fiery trail in their wake against his already overheated skin. As his hand moved behind her to shove her pants down, Killian's hips bucked into hers. Emma mewled loudly and in a flash, her hands were in the front of his pants unlacing them frantically. She didn't bother to push them down as she thrust her hand inside and grasped him. Killian gasped in shock at the feel of her warm hand stroking his shaft. She held him firmly with long practiced strokes. He felt another flair of jealousy for whoever had taught her how to do that. Emma started to kneel at his feet, but he stopped her. He knew exactly what she'd had in mind, but he wasn't going to last long if she tried it.
“Emma, love,” he panted, “stop.”
She did as he asked, reluctantly. Without a word, she finished removing her boots and pants and tossed them aside. Then she was back in his arms, catching his lips with a searing kiss. Killian needed no further prompting. He pulled one of her legs up around his waist, pinning her between him and wall. Emma caught on, wrapping her other leg around his waist and locking her ankles together. His shaft brushed intimately against her soaked folds, causing them both to groan.
“Please, Killian,” she whispered against his ear.
The sound of his real name falling from her lips nearly undid him. He kissed her once more, positioning himself at her entrance. With one powerful thrust, he was inside her. She felt exquisite; her warm wet walls gripping him tightly. It was a moment he never wanted to end, but he had to move. He set a punishing rhythm, knowing this couldn't last despite how much he wanted it to. Her family would come looking for her soon enough.
Emma clawed at his back, as he felt her walls start to flutter around him. He could feel as her orgasm hit; quickly he captured her lips in another kiss to stifle her cry of pleasure. His hook bit into the brick wall next to her head, nearly frantic now to find his own release. Emma mewled into his shoulder at the new angle. A handful of thrusts later he followed her over the edge. Killian could do little more than pant her name as he came down from his high.
His arms were shaking from supporting her weight; reluctantly he set her back on the ground. He didn't want to stop touching her, but he forced himself to step back. He expected her torrent of recriminations to begin at any moment. Emma could lie to herself if she wanted, but Killian knew the truth. She'd wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He'd seen it in her eyes.
But she surprised him yet again. “That...was amazing,” she said softly.
“Aye,” Killian agreed, wondering what she was thinking.
“But it can never happen again, you know that, right?”
“We'll see about that, princess,” he countered.
Emma glared at him, but said nothing. Quickly, she gathered what was left of her clothes, slipping back into her pants and boots. She looked down at her ruined shirt and sighed. Then she pulled her jacket on over it and buttoned it up, trying to reclaim her modesty. Killian, missing fewer clothes, dressed quickly. He stood in front of her, wanting one final word before she left.
“This isn't over, Emma,” he said.
“It has to be, Hook. There is no us. Period.”
He smirked at her knowingly. He could allow her that fantasy for now, if she insisted on being stubborn about it.
“I'm serious, Killian,” she said, hoping using his name would get him to understand.
“I'm sure you are, lass. As am I. Deadly so.”
“I don't have time for this,” she said, frustrated.
He allowed her to brush past him, back out into the light of the street. He watched her go silently. Killian Jones was a patient man. He'd waited three hundred years to get his revenge; he could wait for her. And woe be tide the man who came between him and his prize.