A/N: It's smut and nothing but smut and I'm not even sorry about it. Enjoy some dominant!Captain Hook/Emma sexytimes, ya'll.

Emma was antsy.

Maybe it was the electricity in the air, signaling an oncoming storm, which she seemed to be highly attuned to these days ... but she was more inclined to believe it was something else. She couldn't seem to sit still, her whole body seemed to be thrumming with it ... it was a wonder the electronics in the apartment weren't going haywire yet.


She and Killian were supposed to be going to dinner, but something was telling her that going out in public right now was probably not the wisest of ideas - for a myriad of reasons, really, but the most important one was she didn't want to.

As soon as he arrived, knocking on the door (that way he always did, like he meant to bust the damn thing down), Emma was greeting him, pulling him inside by the front of his shirt, in spite of his bewildered insistence that they were going to be late.

"Yeah, we're not going," she told him, and he immediately bristled. She supposed she probably could've eased him into her "let's stay home alone and do unspeakable things together" plan a little more gently.

But gentle had never really been her forte.

"Is everything all right, love?" he asked her, his tone wary as he looked at her, as though trying to assess what the problem might be (and hoping it wasn't him).

"Everything's fine," she said, offering him a bright grin, pulling him by the hand further into the apartment. She wondered if he could feel the buzz under her skin, or if that was just her, if she was just that keyed up.

"Everything's fine," he repeated in a bland monotone, still looking at her as if just waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Why don't I believe that?"

Emma rolled her eyes, leaning in and kissing him, deep and hard and needful, before pulling back. "Everything's fine," she assured him again, arching a brow at him. "I don't want to go out."

He grinned at her then, his arms going around her waist as he pulled her in flush. "Ah, now I think I'm starting to understand," he said lowly, his hand roaming a little farther south, cupping her ass.

"You're very perceptive and all," Emma teased him, tracing her fingertips along the v of his shirt, wanting nothing more than to rip the damn thing off of him with her teeth.

She might just, actually.

"Not that I'm a man to complain about a night alone with the fair Lady Swan, but one does have to wonder ... " he said leadingly, cautiously.

"You asked me something, the other night ... " she told him, looking at him from beneath her lashes, wondering if he'd remember that conversation they'd had, in the afterglow of a particularly spectacular round.

His brows arched upward. "I recall asking if you had any regrets ... " he said carefully, and God, she loved him for the way he seemed so worried right now, and she shook her head, smiling softly to herself.

Silly, stupid, wonderful man.

"And I said I didn't have any," she finished for him, brushing her thumb over the worried creases that had furrowed his brow then. "But that wasn't entirely true."

He stiffened against her, and he raised his hand, tipping her chin up to look him in the eyes - those too blue eyes of his that always seemed to see right through her. "Oh?" he asked, and she wondered if he knew how adorable he sounded right then, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss his worries away, so she did just that.

"I have one," she whispered, brushing her lips over his, "one kind of big regret."

"I'm listening, Emma."

Oh. He was using her name, that meant he was really worried.

God, she loved him. Did he even know? She loved everything about him, his fierceness and his sweetness, the good and the bad, the way he just did things for her, as if they were second nature, as if any other option were unheard of. She loved the way he held her, reverently, as though she were the most precious, beautiful thing in the world, as if he couldn't even believe he was allowed to touch her.

Which was kind of ironic, considering what it was she wanted from him now.

"Remember our trip?" she asked him, a smirk quirking the corners of her lips upward. "Back to the Enchanted Forest, I mean."

"Aye," he said, and now his brow furrows were the confused ones, as he searched her face. "Not like to forget that, lass."

"I dunno, you don't seem to remember that damn barwench," she teased him lightly, gaze flicking back to his. She bit her lip a little, pressing her forehead to his as she leaned in and kissed him again, this time, letting her teeth graze lightly over his bottom lip. "That's the thing. That damn barwench in me is pretty upset she never did get her night with the Captain."

Killian pulled back again, brows shooting upward at her words, and she could feel parts of him stirring, where they were pressed against her. A wicked smirk formed on his lips then, a glint in his eyes that Emma could only call dangerous. "I think that could definitely be arranged, darling."

Yes. Good.

He didn't need to have things spelled out for him - just another thing she loved about him - and he wasted no time, hand and hook going to the backs of her thighs, hauling her upward and pushing her back against the nearest wall, his mouth already hot and hungry against hers. Emma's lips parted, her tongue sliding out to tangle with his, the hunger evident on both sides now.

Maybe he'd been holding the Captain back all this time.

His hand was up under her shirt before she even realized he'd moved again, and he had her pinned against the wall with his hips, which was hot as fuck - Emma was no dainty, wilting flower, but Killian was all strength, and it was nothing for him to keep her there. His fingers tweaked her nipple through the thin lace of her bra and she gasped against his mouth - it was rough, but it was a good rough, and she wanted more.

Her hips bucked against his, and he pressed her more firmly into the wall. "Don't think I told you to move yet, did I?" he hissed, scraping his teeth along her jawline and holy fuck that rough tone in his voice was probably going to make her cum before he ever actually fucked her.

"This is what you want?" His breath was hot at her ear then, and she heard Killian asking, and she loved him all over again for it, but at the same time she wasn't here for questions, not right now. Right now she wanted to fuck her boyfriend, hard and dirty.

"Killian ... Hook ... fuck!" she ground out, trying to arch against him again, which caused him to growl out, and he stepped away from her before she even had time to process what was happening.

Her feet were back on the ground and she was dazed and bewildered and looking at him, her mouth opening as though to question, but he held up a finger, and that part of her inside, that part of her that she tamped down all the time, that part of her that just wanted to submit to him, only to him, only ever to him, took over, and the words died on her lips.

"That's a good lass," he said, and his voice was low and rough, that dark edge to it that she remembered from when they'd first met, and when she'd met him in the past, and it had her quivering. Never again would anyone have this effect on her. Never again would she let any man see this side of her, never ever ever.

He looked at her with a hunger that made her weak, the desire she knew he had always had for her, raw and evident on his face. Even though she was giving him the lead, letting him be in charge - she felt powerful, knowing how much he wanted her. "Strip," he told her, and that tone in his voice brokered no room for argument, not that she would have. She'd asked for this, just for this, and she wanted it all. Her hands moved the hem of her sweater but his own hand curled around one of her wrists before she could do anything. "Slowly," he told her, before releasing her wrist again, and stepping back.

With a little smirk, Emma started to remove her shirt, going at a snail's pace - she could still be a little contrary, even now, and she suspected he wouldn't want her any other way. She could hear the low rumble in his throat as he watched her, thumb pressed against his lips as if assessing the situation fully - and it was incredibly hot. "Do I have all bloody night?" he asked then, arching a brow at her "insolence".

"Well, I certainly hope so," she retorted smartly, and he was on her again before she could even breathe, teeth nipping at her bottom lip, sharp and rough.

"Be a good lass, and do as you're told," he hissed against her lips, though she felt the tender brush of his fingertips over the exposed skin of her side, letting her know that whatever this game was - they were still Killian and Emma. "Without the sass." Emma rolled her eyes at him, but nevertheless, did as she was "told".

"That's better," he told her, resuming his former stance, his gaze hungry as she bared her skin to him, tossing the sweater aside, and moving her hands to the button on her jeans ... realizing then that the buzzing in her skin had given way to her hands shaking - but not from nerves or worry, from pure, unadulterated need.

Once she was down to nothing but her black lacy bra and matching thong, he moved toward her once again. "I'll take it from here," he told her, smoothing his hand along her bare upper thigh, drawing it up around his hip as he pressed himself against her center. Emma's lashes fluttered and she gasped softly, feeling just how much he wanted her.

"Such a wanton thing," he taunted her darkly, tipping her chin up with the very point of his hook. He slid his hand around between them, pressing his thumb against her center, hissing out lowly - she was wet enough for him that he'd be able to feel that through the fabric. He began to stroke her through the fabric and she clenched her eyes shut, a little whimpery moan passing her lips. "Tell me, love, is it pirates in general that do this for you, that get you this wet?"

"Maybe," she hissed out through gritted teeth as his thumb pressed more firmly against her clit. Her lips parted and another cry tore from her throat.

"Liar," he breathed, hot against her ear, teeth nipping at the shell as she started bucking against his fingers, completely on instinct. "It's only me, isn't it?" When she didn't answer him, he stilled his fingers against her. "Say it."

Emma whined out when he stopped and she should have been ashamed or embarrassed but she wasn't, because he'd stopped and she didn't want him to. He laughed, low and without humor, the sound was dark and sinister as hell and it sent a fresh jolt of lust right through her. His fingers were still pressed against her. "Do you want me to stop, Swan?" he asked her lowly, lips just close enough to the skin on her neck that she could feel his breath, sending shivers down her spine, making her ache. "Tell me it's only me."

"Yes," she finally managed to rasp out, not sure how she was even forming words.

"Yes, what?"

"It's ... you ... just you. I only want you," she sobbed out, resisting the urge to move her hips to try and make him touch her again, the way she wanted to be touched.

"Don't close your eyes," he said sharply then, and she snapped her eyes open to meet his, her lips parting as his fingers slipped past the lacy barrier that had been between him and her slick heat before. "I want you watch me when I make you come."

She couldn't have looked away if she'd wanted to ... his blue eyes were like blue flames, and she was completely entranced. His gaze never wavered as he worked his fingers over her, before dipping one, then another, finger into her. "Fuck yourself," he told her lowly, never looking away from her eyes. "Fuck yourself on my fingers, the way you do yourself when I'm not with you, when you wish I was."

God, why was this such a turn on for her? The way he talked to her would likely get anyone else slapped, any other time, but right now, it was exactly what she wanted. She rocked herself down against his fingers, gasping out, crying out, all but keening for him.

"Is that all the better you can do, love?" He was taunting her again, the bastard, and God she loved it. She moved her hips faster then, harder, feeling that glorious first release creeping up on her, that low heat coiling in her belly. "That's better," he soothed, his thumb pressing against her clit once more. "Do you want to come, Emma ... do you think I should let you? I seem to recall promising you my full attention, and you've not gotten the half of that yet."

She might actually go fucking crazy if he stopped now, if he didn't finish what he'd started here, but dammit, she'd asked for all of it. "I ... yes," she hissed out, but she didn't know what she was agreeing to - honestly, did it matter at this point?

"Yes, what, darling?" he asked. "Do you want me to let you come, or do you want more?" And she could hear it then, Killian asking, had she had enough or did she still want to play?

She met his gaze, heat sparking in her own green eyes, matching the twin blue flames of his. "I'm fairly certain a Captain can do better," she breathed out raggedly, and then he was kissing her, pulling his fingers from her and leaving her feeling empty, aching, needing.

She shuddered, almost moaning aloud when she watched him draw his fingers, wet from her sex, into his mouth, saw the way he relished in her taste, the rapture on his face enough to almost undo her completely, and he groaned, low and hot in his throat as his fingers then moved to undo the buckle on his belt. Once he was free of his own constraints, he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, gently, but his next words were anything but. "I think I'd like to fuck that smart mouth of yours, wench."

Emma inhaled sharply, her heart thudding wildly, and she didn't waste any time, dropping to her knees in front of him, dragging her nails down over his thighs before moving her hands around to his ass, pulling him to her, her mouth going around him without any ceremony or teasing. She knew how he liked to be gotten off - after months of being intimate with this man, she knew how to touch him, how to make him groan out her name, exactly how to use her tongue against his cock.

She loved the sounds he made, the amount of control over him this gave her, the way his hand fisted in her hair, tugging in a way that might be painful if it didn't feel so fucking good. She loved the words he said, so dark and depraved, speaking only of lust and want for her and the things she did to him.

She hummed low in the back of her throat around his length, feeling him tense, knowing she could have him there so quickly if she wanted to ... his fingers pulled roughly at her hair, yanking her back from him, her mouth releasing him with a wet pop! and she could tell it was taking every ounce of composure that he had to keep from losing it then and there.

She couldn't help but be pleased with herself for that.

She started to move to stand up once more, but he held her down, the look in his eyes searing her. "I didn't tell you to get up," he said lowly, slowly releasing her hair from his grasp.

The floor beneath them was hardwood, and her knees would be raw and bruised come morning, but it would be worth it. She felt him move behind her, the tip of his hook trailing down her spine, making her shiver, making her body start to go taut. Just when she thought he'd fuck her, finally, she felt his hand and his hook at her waist, realizing that he was on his back on the floor now, and he was pulling her to sit astride his face.

Oh fucking hell.

"A woman as beautiful as you deserves my full and prompt attention," he said lowly, reiterating the words his past self had said to her in the Enchanted Forest.

His tongue delved past her folds, in and out, fucking her in that way only he knew how. She was crying out, fingers tugging at his hair now, as she rode his mouth, as he had her seeing stars in a matter of minutes. He growled against her slick flesh, sucking at her little bundle of nerves and making her scream so loudly she was sure the sheriff's desk would have a noise complaint (or twelve) in the morning.

She was still reeling and he had her on her hands and knees before she even knew he'd moved. God, he was fast. His hand and hook were at her hips now and he was pulling her backward, and she could feel his cock pressing against her. "So wet," he breathed out, "Gods but you do like it rough, don't you?"

Emma groaned, her head falling forward as she ground herself back against him. Her inner walls were still pulsing from the way he'd fucked her with his mouth, and she wanted him in her. He gave her a smack on the ass and she squeaked in surprise, biting her lip to quell the little moan that was threatening to escape. She definitely liked him rough like this. Dark and dangerous, take no prisoners, fuck you raw - God, yes.

"Ask me to fuck you," he said, his fingers winding through her long blonde tresses then, pulling her back so he could hiss the words in her ear. "Beg for my cock."

"Fuck ... " she practically panted. "Yes. Fuck me, please, I need ... "

"You need ... ?" he prompted, not letting up on her hair, his cock teasing her entrance in such a way it made her want to sob and beg and offer him anything he fucking wanted.

"I need you. I need your cock, God, just fuck me already!"

He gave another dark chuckle, releasing her hair and pushing her forward, her hands splaying out on the wood floor beneath her as he slammed home at last, and she cried out, again and again as he was relentless, taking his pleasure and giving her more than her fair share of her own, until she was crying out for him again, the tears of the well and truly fucked streaming from her eyes, and he was over the edge after her, calling out her name in a guttural, feral shout.

Afterward, when they were nothing but a tangle of limbs, too sore and sated and used up to move, only enough so that he could pull the blanket off the couch and toss it over them where they lay on the floor, he ran his fingertips gently down her arm, pressing the softest of kisses to her brow. She smiled, nuzzling against his neck, giggling - she was exhausted, that's what she would blame it on - against his skin as they both basked in it all.

Did he know how much she loved him - both the sensitive tortured side, and the "fuck you like a pirate" side? It wasn't easy for her to put it into words, but in moments like this, she was pretty sure he knew. He was quite perceptive, after all.

"Any regrets now, lass?" he asked her, after nearly an hour of content, satisfied silence, and she shook her head against his neck, before lifting her head to look at him, a wicked grin forming on her lips.

"Tell the Captain he can come out to play more often."

Killian laughed heartily at that, pulling her into his side and kissing her until she was breathless with need for him again, and this time, she was the one giving the demands.

She had to call in sick in the morning, but it was well worth it.