A/n: Hello everyone! This is my new multi-fic Captain Swan story. We're in for a bumpy ride, so I hope you're all ready! Please review and let me know what you think! Enjoy!
"I had no idea you had such a soft side," Emma mocked calmly, feeling the adrenaline course through her veins.
"I don't," He replied in a cavalier tone. "I just like a fair fight," He finished, engaging her blade. He came at her strongly, the blade moving as a part of his arm. Emma fought back with difficulty, at a disadvantage with his experience and strength. She parried his blow, struggling to keep her ground as he kept their blades engaged, pressing into her firmly until their faces were mere inches apart.
"Good form," He complimented with a smile, catching her ankle with his hook as she attempted to kick him back. He tugged her leg backwards slightly to rest on his hip, the sudden movement causing her to stumble into him. With a flick of his wrist, Hook took advantage of the situation and disarmed her, sending her to the ground. "But not good enough," He whispered, seeing the slight panic in her eyes.
Emma could feel Henry slipping away as Hook trapped her blade between his hook and sword. He would kill her now, she was sure. She was close to the compass, could see the gold glimmering in the sunlight, even partially buried in the sand. She had come too far to be bested now.
"Normally, I'd prefer to do other enjoyable activities with a woman on her back," He said, forcing their locked blades to the side as he kneeled and straddled her. "But with my life on the line, you've left me no choice." He smirked down at her, seeming to enjoy her vulnerability. "Bit of advice? When I jab you with my sword, you'll feel it. You might want to quit," He advised, feeling self-assured with her defeat.
Looking into his eyes, feeling the friction of their momentarily joined hips, she knew what she had to do. In a split second decision she ignored their blades between them and raised her head upwards, pressing her lips to his, capturing them with all the desperation she felt. Her tongue plundered his mouth as it opened in surprise, kissing him with all that she had left in her to do. It took him a moment, only a moment, for him to respond, kissing her back with equal fervor. She felt the stubble scratch her chin, felt his teeth tease her bottom lip. With one powerful flick of his wrist, their blades disengaged and were sent flying a few feet away. His hand curled in her hair, tilting her head up for better access.
Emma obliged, letting their bodies meld together during the searing kiss. Her hand searched the sand and closed around the compass. She could feel his desire through their clothes, could taste it on his tongue; she resisted the urge to smirk. Men. They never learned. She sat up slowly, pressing her hips into his and relishing in the sharp gasp he gave. She kissed him more fervently, pushing him backwards until their positions were switched, until she straddled him in the most intimate of ways. His hand rested on her hip, his thumb sliding under her shirt to stroke her bare skin. She ground her hips against his, kissed him and clung to him, using his lust to drive away rational thought. She waited until the opportune moment arrived, waited until she could feel all the tension and suspicion leave his body - until he was too overcome by her seduction to think. And then she stopped.
"Now why would I want to do that, when I'm winning?" She murmured against his lips, before disengaging and leaning back slightly. The lust had properly addled his brain; he didn't even see her fist coming at him until it was too late. She stood, leaving his unconscious form in the sand with the compass clenched in her fist, before rushing to her mother's side.
"Now let's go home!"