Author: Just a smutty oneshot. Some dialogue borrowed from Snow Drifts
Enjoy the Ride
"Killian?" she hissed, "Killian?"
But the captain's cabin was dark and empty. Emma breathed a sigh of relief, he must have found a way to get off the ship unseen. Her mother had already left, so hopefully, hopefully, he had managed to persuade her to steal the ring.
She went to the ladder, intending to climb back up, only to be met with a pair of leather clad legs on their way down.
"Now, where may you be going? I do hope you're not having second thoughts."
Hook, the past version of him, dammit.
"No, I just got tired of waiting," Emma said, pulling him towards her. Hook kissed her eagerly, immediately shoving his rum-soaked tongue into her mouth. Christ, how was he even still standing after all that booze? Most men would be passed out cold half a bottle ago. They shuffled around in a circle, lips fused together like horny teenagers at a high school dance, swaying closer and then breaking apart. He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the darkened cabin.
"My apologizes, a woman as beautiful as you deserves my full and prompt attention."
She leaned back and he followed, still grinning from ear to ear and pulling her hips closer with hand and hook. Emma tried to think of a way to make a graceful exit, or any type of exit, when his hot mouth kissed a trail from the base of her neck up to her ear.
"Come now, lass, won't you tell me your name?"
Why did he keep harping on the name thing? Hook had asked several times in the tavern, attempting to charm it out of her, while she deflected and poured shots.
His hand rubbed her thigh through the layers of skirts, "If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."
"I know your name," she said, and he pulled back.
"Ah. You know my moniker, that much is obvious."
He raised the hook and she raised an eyebrow at it. He smiled, and he drew the blunt outer curve across the tops of her breasts, catching the tip in the edge of the corset and tugging it down slightly.
"But that's not the name you'll be praising to the heavens very shortly."
Emma felt the deep red flush rise from her chest all the way to her face even as she thought, "Cocky bastard."
Hook repeated the movement, but this time it was his hand that grazed her skin, a feather-light touch that was so delicate compared to the hardness of the metal. He pulled the corset even further, leaving her breasts just on the verge of completely popping out, and then he spread his arms and gave a little half bow.
"Killian Jones, at your service."
She had a flash of him tied to a tree, angry and annoyed and a tiny bit impressed that she had seen through his blacksmith disguise.
"Your turn, love," he said.
She should just give him a fake name, but she was drawing almost a complete blank. The only names she could think of were Regina (no), Mary Margaret (double no), Snow White (hell to the no) and Marty McFly, who never had a drunk horny pirate to contend with when he went back in time. He just got hit on by his mom, and oh God, if they ran into David and she had to go out on a date with him like Marty had to take his mom to the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance she was going to seriously lose her mind.
What did Marty get called in Back to the Future? Calvin Klein, because he had on Calvin Klein underwear and nobody knew who that was in 1955.
"Victoria!" she blurted out, "Fine, you win, my name's Victoria."
"Victoria," Hook repeated, sounding pleased, "There, was that so difficult? And does Victoria have a surname?"
"Er, it's a secret," Emma said, "Lame, Emma," she thought, "Now shut the hell up and get the hell out of here."
But Hook had other ideas. He started kissing her again, pushing her backwards until she was pressed up against the desk. She would have to shove him away, make up some excuse, claim she was having second thoughts, and go meet up with Killian. But even drunk off his ass, the man could kiss, and she could feel heat beginning to pool between her legs.
It was so tempting. Emma could just let him take her to bed, have a quick roll in the sheets with him, and leave. That was all this Hook wanted, after all, and she was no stranger to a one night stand with an attractive man from a bar. He'd go back to plotting his revenge in the morning (was he already allied with Cora?), and she'd go back to New York and he'd be none the wiser.
Killian would never have to know. She'd just be one of many drunk fucks, dimly remembered if at all. Just a blonde named Victoria, not Emma, not the Saviour, not the woman he'd followed across worlds and back in time, the fact of which kept boggling her mind. Why did he keep following her when she kept pushing him away?
It was so weird. He was the same man. He looked the same, same messy dark hair, same too-blue eyes. He was wearing the same necklace, the same rings, and the same coat. He'd worn (would wear?) that coat in Neverland, when she'd let him goad her into kissing him. He'd worn (would wear?) that same coat in New York, when he'd shown up at her door and smiled at her like a man who was finally home after a long journey.
But this man didn't look at her like that. He'd looked at her with interest, with lust, certainly, but she was just a pretty woman in a bar to him. Nothing more. He certainly wouldn't jump into a portal after her.
Why did that bug her?
His knee had wedged itself between her legs, and his hand was cupping her breast, finally lifted free of the torture device, thumb sweeping over her hardened nipple.
"Shit!" she thought, "shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!" Things were moving way too fast, and she was starting to picture that hand sliding under her skirts, that mouth on her breast, that itch under her skin that she'd always had for him but never quite acknowledged finally getting scratched.
She needed to get the fuck out.
She needed to get fucked.
His hook was at the small of her back, holding her in place as his head bent and he took her nipple in his mouth. Emma arched up into him, a moan leaving her lips as her hands braced themselves on the edge of the desk.
She was seriously fucked.
He sucked hard at the sensitive tip, tongue swirling over it and releasing it with a wet pop. Emma needed to take back control, figure out exactly what she was doing. Killian was out there, waiting for her, most likely wondering what the hell was going on. Oh God, what if he came back on the ship to check up on her and found her like this? With Hook? He'd probably punch his younger self right in the face.
Hook was right in front of her, smiling that self-satisfied smirk he still used whenever he managed to get a rise out of her, and Emma met his eyes, holding him in her gaze as she went for the laces of his pants. She made quick work of the knot, sliding her hand in and discovering that nothing came in between Hook and his leather.
"A bit eager, are we lass?" he chuckled, but as she palmed his erection and gave him a firm squeeze, he shut up and his eyes closed. He jerked in her hand and she put her mouth to his ear.
"Perhaps you're the one who's a bit eager."
Emma started to stroke him, slow at first, finding the right angle for her wrist, the grip that would cover the most of him. His hips started to move and she increased her pace, holding him tight in her fist. Hook's head drooped, his hand holding on to her hip, fingers digging in. He was breathing heavily, cursing softly under each sharp inhale.
"Wanton girl...that's it...yes...yes...seven hells lass...couldn't we have left the bloody tavern sooner...don't stop…"
She kept it up even as her hand started to ache, her own arousal screaming at her from under the heavy skirts, and fighting the urge to lie back on the desk, spread her legs, and pull him on top of her. Emma wanted him, wanted to feel the throbbing length of him inside her, wanted him to make her praise his name to the heavens just like he said she would, wanted to hear her own name fall from his lips over and over again.
But she couldn't. She was going back to New York, and she didn't want him to one day remember that she had casually fucked him before she walked away. Killian deserved better than a drunk fumble on a desk. She wished she could give it to him.
"Love, I'm going to...stop lass, I'm, I'm…"
She knew what he was trying to say, but she didn't let up and she murmured, "Just hold on and enjoy the ride, Captain."
He came with a loud groan, slumping against her. Emma stumbled under his weight, and they fell to the floor. He rolled onto his back, arm falling out limply. She just sat where she fell, feeling her heart racing and the uncomfortable ache of unsatisfied need between her legs.
"Just give me a minute and I'll take care of you. Never let it be said that Killian Jones leaves a lady wanting."
Emma smiled. Drunk off his ass pirate, and still trying to be a gentleman.
"Don't worry about it," she said, leaning over his sprawled form and kissing his forehead. She tried to pull back, but his hand shot to the back of her neck with alarming speed.
"I will most certainly worry about it. My beautiful Victoria, I shall repay your skilled handling of the situation tenfold."
She rolled her eyes at him. Hook smiled at her, pulling her down and tucking her into his side.
Emma let herself lay next to him for a moment. The combination of rum and an orgasm proved more potent than any sleeping curse, he was out like a light almost instantly. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest under her hand, and she slid out carefully from under his arm.
Asleep, his face was softer, losing that hard edge that had been sharpened by centuries spent chasing vengeance that would never come. He looked more familiar like this, and she felt her chest tighten as she realized that he looked more like her Killian then he had all evening.
Her Killian. Emma gave a shake of her head. He wasn't hers. She was going back to New York, and he was staying in Storybrooke, or the Enchanted Forest, or doing whatever, maybe he'd go sail around the world or something, but she was definitely leaving and he was definitely not hers.
When she left the Jolly Roger and found him twitching with impatience back at the tavern, he grabbed her by the arm and stared at her with suspicious eyes.
"What the bloody hell were you doing?"
Emma yanked her arm away, "Keeping him occupied! Now let's get out of here before someone realizes there's two of you, Ratatouille already thinks something's up."
Killian looked like he wanted to argue but she started walking away, forcing her guilt down into a tight little ball that she'd deal with later. In New York.
Five Weeks Later: Back in the Future
Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Killian lay half on top of her in the bed, giving sweet little nips to her bottom lip that made her giggle against his mouth. They rose up together, Emma pulled off her T-shirt and bra (the memory of the corset poking her still fresh in her mind and killing off any Scarlett O'Hara fantasies she'd ever had) while Killian divested himself of vest and shirt. His leather pants were joined on the floor by her jeans, and he ran his hand over her stomach, reaching for her panties.
"Swan? Why do your undergarments have writing on them?"
Emma pushed up on her elbows, squinting down. They were just pink cotton undies from Victoria's Secret, the name printed on the waistband.
"It's just the name of the store where I bought them. You know, like how those shoes I have say Nike on them?"
Killian was kneeling between her legs, frowning. His finger traced the words as he said them out loud, "Victoria's Secret."
His mouth dropped open and he said it again, louder, enunciating every syllable, "Vic-tor-ia's Secret. VICTORIA'S SECRET."
"Oh," Emma said mildly, letting herself fall back and looking up at him from the pillows.
"She...you...Swan? That was you?"
"You remember. Everything?"
"I remember enough!"
"Told you," she shrugged, "Kept him occupied."
"Yes, and as I recall, I was sorely lacking in keeping you occupied that night, since you plied me with rum nonstop. Well, Milady Victoria Secret, it is time I kept my promise."
Killian slid the underwear down her legs and pulled her feet free. He set one knee over his shoulder and Emma felt her breath catch in her throat, "What promise?"
His smile was devastating, "Why, to repay you tenfold, of course."
The dark head dropped between her legs and Emma's eyes slammed shut, a low moan escaping her throat.
As the first orgasm hit, his fingers buried deep in her and his tongue on her clit, Emma lay back and enjoyed the ride, praising his name straight to the heavens.