Hooked: Captain Swan One-Shots

It's About Bloody Time

Captain Swan One-Shots #1 ~ It's About Bloody Time

***

Killian cursed, slamming his hook down onto his desk, adding to the many dents and scratches that had formed over the three-hundred years in Neverland. He was slowly losing his temper, and his desk seemed like the best thing to take out his anger on.

He was bored.

With the Wicked Witch defeated and no danger lingering over the towns head, he found himself alone on the Jolly Rodger more and more. His crew had left, they'd either died in the battle or found work on the docks. Emma was spending all her free time with Henry. He'd only got his memories back after the new curse had broken, and he was still grieving Neals death. He wasn't needed anymore. There was nothing stopping him from lifting anchor and sailing away from here.

Emma.

Ok, so maybe he'd lied to himself, but feeling unwanted was better than feeling rejected. He kept telling himself that he didn't need her, that he could go whenever he wanted. 'I don't need Emma Swan' had become his personal mantra over the past few weeks, flying through his thoughts like a broken record.

She was in his thoughts, his dreams. She had invaded his mind like the plague. Deep down he was thankful for the painful thoughts. They reminded him that he wasn't good enough. They were a constant reminder that no one would chose a one handed pirate with a drinking problem. He'd lost her, he'd lost everything.

A light tap on his door stopped him from punching the wall through, and he took a sharp intake of breath at the beautiful blonde vixen stood in his doorway. Her eyes flicked to his raised fist and she raised an eyebrow, a silent question glistening in her eyes. He replaced his scowl with his usual smirk, lowering his arm and sitting on the front of his desk.

"How may I help, love?" He questioned, crossing his ankles and acting interested in the tip of his hook, doing anything to avoid looking at her.

"I haven't seen you since the fight." She shrugged, not really answering his question. Even after she's kissed him, spent countless days with him, he'd brought her back and they'd fought the Wicked Witch together, she still didn't feel completely comfortable around him. There was always this undeniable sexual tension. And it wasn't always just coming from him. She had to admit that he was attractive, no matter how much it hurt her pride.

"Aye, that'd be true, love, so what?" He looked her in the eye now, certain that he'd be able to control himself. His pulse quickened, she was clearly uncomfortable around him, and that gave him a flicker of hope. She wasn't nervous because she was scared of him, no, she's proven she could take care of herself when she held a knife to his throat in the Enchanted Forest.

"Um, well, Henry's been asking about you. He wants to know if you'll tell him the real version of all those stories, you know, the ones about Neal." Hook rose from his seated position to stand in front of her. His coat brushed her legs, the only thing of his touching her. He looked down at her with hooded eyes, raising his hook to brush the hair away from her face, exposing the white scar running from her eye to the corner of her ear. His heart constricted, hating that her perfect face had been scarred.

"You shouldn't hide it, love." Emma pulled away, not missing the double meaning, and put a few steps between them, backing herself up against the wall.

"It's ugly." She shrugged her hair back in front of her face and with new resolve straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye.

Hook lost it, he just couldn't keep his promise anymore. He took two cautious steps forward, pressing their knees together and trailing his hand and hook down her arms. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of her scar, trailing feather light pecks all the way down it. Constantly whispering 'beautiful'. He moved down to her jaw then her neck, nipping a little at the skin.

"Killian..." She moaned, arching her back. He froze. It was rare that she used his real name, preferring to call him by his moniker.

"Yes, love?" He murmured into her skin, dreading her next words. They were either about to make or break the moment, and his chance.

"Don't stop."

It was all he needed to hear. Hook took to violently kissing Emma with everything he had, deciding it was long overdue. They both gave as much as they took, quickly working themselves into a panting mix of bodies and leather. They both pulled away, needing to breath, and looked the other straight in the eye, an unspoken confession of love passing between them. They didn't need to say it, but they knew.

The next day, Emma woke to Henry's head in her lap, and her head resting on Hooks chest. They'd fallen asleep on the sofa together, after Hook had been telling Henry about the time Neal had almost been taken by mermaids. She thought the other two were asleep, so settled back down. Hook, was awake, just pretending to be asleep to listen to the rhythmic sounds of Emma and Henry breathing, finally feeling content after three hundred years of turmoil.

It's about bloody time, he though to himself, before slipping back under.