#dashingrapskillian

Her back may be to the door, but she knows the instant he walks in. She’s loading down a tray full of drinks, but Granny’s eyes flicker over her shoulder and there’s only one person on earth that Emma knows puts a look like that on Granny’s face.

It’s not like he doesn’t pay for whatever damages he causes, so she really shouldn’t be too upset.

There is still a nick in the bartop from his hook, though, that she sometimes touches as a reminder.

She doesn’t need it now, though, because between blinks there’s a very warm body pressed against her back, a hand snaking out to steal one of the mugs in front of her.

“Good evening, love,” he murmurs, his breath hot on her neck as he gently pulls away her curls with his hook. She’s seen him do a lot of damage with that particular appendage, but she can’t help the sigh that escapes her when the metal brushes her skin.

(Okay, so she’s also felt him do a lot of other things with it, too, that would elicit far more than a sigh.)

He hovers over her, face practically pressed into her neck as he inhales, his own breathing stuttering just enough for her to notice the small pause.

“You’re as beautiful as ever, Swan,” he finally says, shuffling away from her slightly to lean against the bar, ignoring Granny’s glare as he takes a sip of whatever pilfered drink he’d taken.

“I know,” she shoots back with a smile, and he chuckles, tilting his head back.

“And modest, of course.”

“Of course.” She nods, and his eyes twinkle in the candlelight.

They’re interrupted by another drink slamming onto her tray, and a grumble from Granny about Hook buying his own drinks.

“Always a pleasure, Granny,” he calls after her retreating back, raising his drink to her before downing half of it and setting it back down on the wood. He pulls a few coins from thin air and sets them down with a wink at Emma.

“Find me when you’re free, love,” he tells her, disappearing into the crowded room. She knows he’ll find his table and uproot whoever is sitting in it tonight, silver tongue and shiny metal enough to send them away without pause.

It’s been a while, months, in fact, since he’s been in port, and as much as she’s loathe to admit it, she finds herself missing him far more than she should.

But it’s nothing for her to worry about now, especially since she’s left these men without their drinks for too long. So she sweeps her hair over her shoulder and grabs the tray.

______________________

Two hours later, she’s practically dead on her feet and begging with her eyes when Granny finally dismisses her with a harrumph and turns to Ruby.

On any other night she’d be half way out the door, but she’s got a pirate to find, so she winds her way to the back of the room, to his little corner. To her complete and utter lack of surprise, he’s gathered a crowd, the sound of dice clattering on the table barely audible over their cheers.

People always do love to watch him, and he revels in it. Not everyone here knows him directly; this is, after all, a port town, and most of their patrons come and go, never to be seen again, but they all know of him.

Captain Hook, scourge of the seas, they say.

Right now, though, his hair is delightfully mussed and his cheeks are bright red, his laughter deep and loud when he wins the next round.

He wins every round, except for when the person he’s playing is a better cheater.

“Ah, Swan! Come join me!” His voice cuts through the din when he catches sight of her, and the bodies part a little bit to let her slide in next to him, most of them moving on to better things now that the game is over.

When she sits, his hand is quick to settle around her waist, tucking her into him until she’s practically sitting on his lap (not that she’d mind). She knows what she wants, though, and it isn’t to be a warm body while he wiles away his coins in drink and games. So when he’s fully distracted, mug to his mouth and about to take a sip of rum, she lets her hand drift a little higher on his thigh than where she’d been keeping it.

Her fingers dig into the leather and the deep gulp he takes in response, swallowing more than he had probably intended, is enough to spread a smile across her face. The growl in her ear that follows her actions, though, is enough to spread a lot more than her smile, and she squirms in her seat, which must have been his intended effect, because he laughs, a boisterous chuckle that tells her exactly how much he’s already had to drink.

His former opponent chuckles, gathering his winnings.

“I’ll leave you to the lady’s company, Captain. Perhaps I’ll have better luck next time.”

The man raises his mug in response, and Hook crashes his against it, spilling drink across the already-splattered table. “Aye, mate,” he says with a nod, and the man disappears into the crowd.

“Still taking honest men’s money, I see,” she says, and he smirks.

“He was anything but honest, love. I had to work for this,” he gestures at the pile of coins on the table in front of him. “He was a spectacular cheat. Just not as spectacular as yours truly.”

His wink is far more coordinated that it has any right to be, and he sweeps his hand across the table, pulling the coins towards himself before carefully placing them in a purse.

Here, like this, his face bathed in candlelight and smoothed by drink, he seems almost gentle, soft.

Sweet, even.

If someone had told her five years ago that she’d be pressed up against the side of Captain Hook, thinking about how sweet he could be, she probably would have laughed in there face. Yet here she is.

He glances up, catching her watching him. His eyes sparkle and he throws his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

“Are you admiring the goods, love?” He whispers conspiratorially in her ear, and she grins.

“Maybe. Depends on how good they are.”

A low chuckle escapes him, and he nuzzles against the side of her neck, lips brushing her skin briefly.

“A very good investment, if you ask me,” he says, and his voice carries the roguish lilt she loves so much, rolling past his lips and into her hair.

“Careful, pirate, they might think you’re going soft, spending your time with the same girl,” she replies, because she’d rather fist her hands in his hair and kiss him senseless, but she wants to get lost in his voice and the teasing words first.

He pulls away then, body shifting so he can catch her eyes.

Soft, sweet, pulls at the back of her mind, and it rather perfectly describes the way he’s looking at her. But she blinks and then it’s gone, and he’s got the ravishing grin he’s so fond of pasted on.

“They can always find out just how hard I am,” he growls, and she can feel the heat from where his thigh is pressed against hers, and she wants to laugh at him but she can’t, instead swallowing a groan when his fingers curl around her hip, pulling her even tighter against him.

She can feel them pressing into her skin like a brand, even through the layers of her dress, and she licks her lips, his eyes following the motion hungrily.

“Come, now, Swan. Let’s find a more private spot.”

And then he’s rising, pulling her along with him, his grip firm and possessive. (She wouldn’t have it any other way.)

They tumble out a side door and into the alley, and while not exactly as private as she’d been thinking about, it must satisfy him, because his lips are on hers before the door is even shut.

He devours her, pressing her legs wide so he can slip between them as he kisses her. When she moans under him he forces himself into her mouth and she moans again, tangling her tongue with his. His hand is gentle around the back of her neck, holding her close to him, but his kisses are anything but gentle, and it’s just the way she likes it.

She digs her fingers into the leather of his jacket, hanging onto the wide collar as though she would fall if she let go, and he groans when she pulls him closer and tangles her legs with his.

“Buggering fuck, woman,” he finally growls, tearing away from her only far enough to sink down to her neck, nipping marks into her skin. “You’re a goddamn enchantress.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she hikes her skirts up enough to throw her leg over his hip and grind against him.

He makes a muffled noise against her chest, and there’s an awful ripping sound as his hook tears through something(probably her dress). His hand presses against her ass and she takes the hint, letting him lift her up just enough to rock against him and then be pinned against the wall. The heat between them is inescapable and she groans, a deep guttural sound that she would be embarrassed for in any other situation but doesn’t even sink in now, especially when he curses and finally manages to shove down her corset, lips instantly attaching themselves to one nipple, his tongue flicking hard.

Her head rolls and she gasps, eyes fixing dimly on the stars overhead as pleasure beings to build between her legs. She fan feel the hard ridge of him pressing against her, only a few scant layers preventing them from fucking like this, and it lights a fire in her that she could never quench on her own.

“Hook,” she gasps, the word turning sharp when he bites her breast, sucking until the pain blooms and fades into a spike of pleasure. He doesn’t seem to be listening to her, so she shoves her hand between them, yanking at cloth until she finds the smooth leather of his pants. She palms him hard, and that brings him back to earth because he jolts, hips jerking into her, and then he abruptly releases her.

She barely catches her feet under herself before she hits the ground, but he’s already twisting his fingers in his laces, yanking until they come free and he can plunge his hand inside. She’d be lying if her mouth didn’t water a little bit at the sight of his cock, hard and red and straining towards her. His hand looked good wrapped around it, but she knew hers would look better so she pushes his hand aside to replace with her own.

The answering groan was all she needed, and she abruptly sunk to her knees, one hand grabbing at his ass to pull him closer. Closer and closer, until he was up brushing up against her cheek and when she looked up his eyes were wide and dark.

It was her turn to wink, and he groaned when she opened her mouth, drawing him in with a quick swipe of her tongue.

His hand seems to find her hair of its own accord, and the both moan in unison when he pulls her tighter against him, cock pressing further into her mouth until she has to swallow around him, tongue pressed against the vein that runs from base to tip. She recognizes the sound of his hook sinking into the wooden siding behind them, and he crowds her forward, pressing her back until she’s caught between his hips in front of her and the wall behind her.

“Gods, Swan, so good here in the dirt,” he growls, and his eyes are closed as she moves over him, alternating bobbing her head with sucking, curling her tongue around the head of him and lapping up the taste of him. She circles her fingers around him and it feels like he’s going to pull her hair out of her head when he yanks her away.

“Get back up here,” he rumbles, and yanks on her arm, perhaps a bit rougher than he usually is but she doesn’t mind (it’s been so long, god, she wouldn’t mind much of anything). She stumbles to her feet but he’s already sinking his hook through her skirts, pulling until he can see the creamy white of her bare thighs and then he pulls her up even further.

She latches one leg around him, and he pushes against her.

Her eyes shudder closed when she feels him, cock thrusting between her legs and pressing against that spot that makes her see stars.

He curses viciously, mumbles something about how wet she is, and then slides his hand between them, angling himself until he’s pressing exactly where she wants him. His lips fumble against hers and then he moves, pushing into her.

She lets out a sound she desperately hopes nobody can hear as he fills her up, friction and heat burning her up from the inside out as he slips home. He grunts, rolling his hips against hers, never pulling out far enough to satisfy the deep ache inside of her, and she twists her hands into his hair, shoving him down to the magical point between he neck and shoulder.

He knows it well enough, and knows exactly what the brush of teeth does to her as he snaps his hips against hers, cock so deep it makes her cry out abruptly. There’s a flash of teeth as he grins up at her, and then returns to his work, pressing his tongue against her skin as he does it again and again. She tries to meet his thrusts, pressing herself against him, but she doesn’t have the leverage and she feels on fire.

His grunts echo in the alley, and she desperately hopes nobody decides the leave the tavern now, at least not in this direction, because she’s sure Granny could walk out right now and it wouldn’t stop him.

Or her, for that matter.

“Fuck, Hook,” she mutters, and it only spurs him on, his hips moving faster and faster, the heavy drag of his cock doing more to send her mind spinning than any drink ever could. Their breathing mixes, heavy pants and grunts and groans, all of it only pushing her further towards that peak.

His hand leaves her ass, a quick movement that he compensates for with his hook, holding her between him and the wall, and snakes it between them, rubbing just above where they meet.

It catches her off guard, and she’d berate him for it, but she’s spinning and sinking all at once, his hips pressing furiously against hers, body shaking apart against her, and it abruptly crashes over her at once.

He growls and only pistons his hips faster, hand returning to hold her up as he buries himself in her. She hardly feels herself as he crushes her against the wall, grunting and groaning and then silence as he spills himself inside of her.

“Emma,” he whispers into her neck, and she wants to say something about it, but she feels boneless and weak, especially when he shifts and slips out of her, letting her feet touch the ground again. She’s grateful for the solid wall at her back, and the pirate pressed against her front.

He kisses her lazily then, and she feels utterly debauched, thighs sticky already from his seed. His hand is twisted in her hair, caressing the back of her skull, and his hook is against her hip, holding her still. As though she would go anywhere.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes sparkle and his grin is wide.

“Come along, sweetheart. I have a gift for you back at the Jolly.”

She musters enough sass to roll her eyes, but she takes his outstretched hand.

“If it’s any more like that, sign me up.”

His laugh is her only response, and he pulls her into the night with him, heading in the direction of the docks.

______________________

The next morning, she rolls into his arms and grins at him, his hair tousled from both sleep and her fingers. She tries to smooth it down, but to no avail.

“Time to rise and shine, captain,” she murmurs, and he bats at her hand, eyes blinking open.

“Aye, princess, I believe it’s time we get you back to your castle,” he whispers, voice rough from sleep, but his lips are already curling into a mischievous grin.

“Or….we could extend our night just a little bit longer,” she replies, gently pressing her lips against to his hand.