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One
The first time Emma Swan saw Killian Jones with his shirt off, she didn’t yet even think of him as Killian – he was simply Hook. They were in Neverland, and she had just returned from Dark Hallow with him and Neal. Everyone was planning the next step against Pan when Emma noticed Hook was bleeding through his shirt.
“Tis but a scratch, love,” he assured her when she pointed it out. “A branch caught me as I fell after the shadow released me, no harm done.”
“Let’s check it out, just to be sure,” Emma argued, pulling him to sit on a log beside her. Maybe it was because of what happened to her father, but Emma was worried.
“Really, love, there’s no need.” Hook continued to protest.
Emma, too worried to really think about what she was doing, attempted to pull up the bottom of Hook’s shirt. “But what if it was a dreamshade thorn? Come on, just let me see.”
“Emma please,” Hook hissed through clenched teeth.
He so rarely said her name, it immediately caused her to look up at him. A panicked look crossed his face as he glanced up at the rest of the group. He caught Emma’s eye and then glanced down at his hook. Then it dawned on her; he didn’t want to expose the brace that held his hook in front of everyone. She, of course, had seen it when he was in the hospital. It had never occurred to her that he might be self-conscious about it. He always seemed so annoyingly cocky. Yet, if she thought about it from his perspective, it made sense. The group included her father and the man who was his competition for her affections. She got how he felt, but the possibility of dreamshade was a fear she couldn’t shake.
Emma rose from the log, pulling Hook up with her. In what she hoped was a nonchalant voice, she told him, “The light’s bad here. Come on, there was a clearing earlier where I can see better.” Emma avoided the eyes of the others. She knew what she would see there. Jealousy from Neal; concern from her parents; and a strange look of gleeful understanding from Tinkerbell. And, yeah, that was still weird.
Hook continued to protest that he was fine as she pulled him along. When they were a safe distance from the others, Emma pointed to a log and ordered, “Sit.” Hook, surprisingly, obeyed without further argument. “Now stop being a baby and let me see it.”
“Couldn’t wait to get me out of my clothes, Swan?” Hook teased with that charming, lopsided grin of his. Emma knew full well she was walking right into that one, so she just rolled her eyes.
Hook eased out of his coat, wincing slightly, then began to unbutton his vest. Emma swallowed hard as she watched how deftly he worked the buttons with just one hand. It shouldn’t have been a turn-on, but it was. Once the vest was off, Emma shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts. Avoiding Hook’s intense gaze, she lifted his shirt to see where the bleeding was coming from. A deep gash ran across his side, but to Emma’s relief, there was no sign of dreamshade poison. Emma narrowed her eyes, thinking for a moment.
“I’ve got some butterfly stitches in my first aid kit. That should close it up and keep it from bleeding.” She bent over and began rummaging through her bag. How could she say the next part without Captain Innuendo making a comment? She sighed. Direct was probably best. She was a grown woman, for heavens’ sake! She could handle seeing a man with his shirt off! “It’ll be easier if you take off your shirt.”
Emma busied herself getting the butterfly sutures ready, avoiding watching Hook peel his shirt over his head. She waited for the innuendo, but it never came. When she finally looked up, Hook was avoiding eye contact. He seemed .. . embarrassed. Emma cleared her throat. When Hook’s eyes met hers, she gave him a tiny smile. Her gaze drifted down to his chest. She noticed, of course, the leather straps that held his brace in place. But that wasn’t what made her mouth suddenly dry and her pulse quicken. She knew about the chest hair, but seeing it fully on display made her practically dizzy with the raw masculinity of it. She also took in his broad shoulders and defined muscles. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached forward with the sutures. When her fingers touched his skin, it was like touching a live wire. Was that sharp intake of breath hers or his?
Emma worked as quickly as she could, avoiding eye contact the entire time. She hoped Hook couldn’t see the blush she felt creeping into her cheeks. The more she touched him, the more she thought of their kiss. And was it getting warmer? By the time she applied the final suture, Emma was feeling light-headed. It was stress, she told herself later. Stress, yes, that was why she continued to stare at Hook’s chest a few beats longer than necessary. That was why she rested her hand on his side for just a moment.
“Like what you see, love?” Hook’s voice penetrated her foggy brain. She pulled her hand away like it was touching a hot stove. Hook’s eyebrow was lifted in that damn smirk of his as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Was he completely incapable of keeping it in his mouth? Emma’s ire suddenly rose, snuffing out the sexual attraction she had been feeling.
Emma rose swiftly, snapping the first aid kit shut. “Don’t flatter yourself, Hook.”
She marched off, unsure who she was more frustrated with. Hook. Or herself.
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Two
The next time Emma saw Killian with his shirt off, she was even more confused about him than she had been in Neverland. Yes, he had found her. But she had a head full of memories of a completely different life. Not to mention 8 months with Walsh. Walsh, who ended up being a flying freakin’ monkey. She went from being an ordinary single mom to a woman who dated a flying monkey and invited Captain Hook to use her shower.
Yes, Hook was in her guest bathroom shower. She tried not to imagine him in there. His dark hair all wet, water running over his broad shoulders and down … Emma shook her head to clear the images from her mind. What was she doing in Henry’s room again? Sheets, that’s right, sheets. Closet space was a premium in New York, so she kept the spare sheets in Henry’s closet. She reached up, pulling them down from the top shelf, then turned and collided right into Killian’s chest.
She stumbled back a little, her face instantly flaming. Killian’s face turned red as well, and Emma noticed him swiftly place his left arm behind his back. His brace was off, giving Emma a full view of the muscles that rippled across his shoulders and down his chest, glistening with water from his shower. His wet hair made him look younger somehow, and she watched with fascination as a drop of water slid down his chest hair. The towel he clutched at his waist hung dangerously low. Emma tried to swallow the lump in her throat, mind struggling frantically for something to say. Hook, thankfully, spoke first.
“I – uh – thought you said I was sleeping in Henry’s room. I assumed you were already abed.”
“Well, um” Emma was suddenly incapable of forming a coherent sentence. Pull yourself together, woman! “I realized Henry’s bed isn’t quite long enough, so I was going to make up the couch for you.”
Neither of them spoke for several charged moments. Emma found her hand lifting of its own volition, hovering over Hook’s chest, near his heart.
“You know, Swan, if you’d like me to share your bed, all you need do is ask.” Emma’s hand dropped to her side, and her head snapped up. Hook gazed down at her with a smirk and a quirked eyebrow.
“Although I must warn you,“ he continued, his voice dropping an octave lower, “I sleep in the nude.”
Emma pushed past him, practically growling in frustration. “In your dreams, Hook,” she snapped as she brushed past him.
Hook stepped in the hall, calling after her, “Yes, Swan, in my dreams, I can assure you. But I wager I’m not the only one.”
Emma snapped the sheets angrily as she began making up the couch. She wasn’t going to satisfy him with a response. She was also going to make it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he would have to sleep in his leather pants. She would say it was in case Henry came home early. The truth was, she wouldn’t sleep a wink if she knew there was a naked pirate sleeping on her couch. She threw a pillow down on the couch with incredible force. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t sleeping tonight, regardless.
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Three
The third time Emma saw Killian with his shirt off, it ended what should have been a perfect day in an argument. He had told her she was his happy ending, and then he had a huge surprise. The Jolly Roger was his once again. Emma knew Killian didn’t regret giving it up, but she also knew what it meant to him. She was so happy for him; this ship had been his home for so long.
They embraced on the deck of his ship, pulling each other tighter as their kisses became more passionate. Emma suddenly realized one of his groans was from pain, not desire. She pulled back quickly, eyes scanning up and down his frame.
“Are you hurt?”
Killian smiled, trying to make light of it as he rubbed his side. “Aye, love, Ursula’s tentacles have quite the grip.”
“Let’s take a better look.” Emma said, tugging him towards the captain’s quarters. “You could have cracked a rib.”
Killian grinned and followed her; he seemed touched by her concern. Once they were in his quarters, she had him sit on the bed and remove his jacket, vest, and shirt. As he did so, Emma was reminded of the same scenario happening in Neverland. This time she did nothing to hide the desire in her eyes as she watched him shed each article of clothing. Once his shirt was off, she tenderly explored the bruises that wrapped around his torso. Before she could analyze her actions she leaned down and kissed them lightly. When she looked up into Killian’s face and saw his pupil’s blown wide with desire, she felt a fire alight in her belly.
Emma said nothing. Actions, not words, were her strength. She straddled Killian, and never breaking eye contact, she began to unbuckle the straps of his brace. Realizing what she was doing, Killian closed his eyes. When the brace was completely off, Emma lifted Killian’s stump.
“Emma,” he groaned. He opened his eyes, and in the ocean blue depths of them there was shame.
Emma didn’t know what to say to erase that shame, so instead she placed her lips on the end of his stump, gently kissing the scarred and puckered flesh. Killian squeezed his eyes shut. Emma took his face in her hands. “Killian, look at me.”
He opened his eyes, gazing at her in awestruck wonder. She had meant to say, “I love you,” but the words just wouldn’t come. Instead, she kissed him senseless, her hands exploring his bare chest and back. He moaned as Emma trailed kisses down his throat. Emma wasn’t surprised when he grasped her hips with his hand and stump, but she was surprised when he lifted her off his lap and set her back on her feet.
“Not like this, Emma,” Killian told her gently.
Emma’s face burned as she felt the sting of Killian’s rejection. The safest response, as usual, was anger. “What the hell do you mean, not like this? Not like what? We’re in a relationship, Killian!”
Killian, for once, seemed at a loss for words. He began sliding his brace back on. “Let me walk you home,” he mumbled.
“What? No! I deserve an explanation! Is it my father? Is this some antiquated agreement you made with him to court his daughter, the princess?”
“No, Emma, nothing like that. But I am a gentleman-“
Emma rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh don’t give me that, Killian. You were more than willing to give bar wench Emma a nightcap after just a few drinks.”
“You’re not just some bar wench, Emma.”
“No! I’m your girlfriend!” Emma got right into his personal space, just as he so loved to do with her. “And here we’ve been seeing each other for over six weeks, and all I’ve gotten is foreplay.” Amazing, fantastic foreplay, but he didn’t need to know that. He also didn’t need to know that their slow burn actually made her feel special and cherished. In this moment, she felt rejected and confused. So she went in for the kill. “You promised me fun. But I guess Captain Hook is all talk and no action.”
Emma spun on her heel to go, but before she could reach the ladder, Killian grabbed her by the elbow gently with his hook. Emma turned reluctantly, but refused to meet his gaze.
“When I ravish you Emma,” he told her softly, in that voice that always set her on fire, “- and believe me I will ravish you, thoroughly and properly – it will be because you’ve given yourself to me completely. Your heart as well as your body.” He paused and then added, tenderly, “That’s what you deserve. To have someone make love to you. Really and truly make love to you.”
A shiver went down Emma’s spine. He couldn’t be more clear. This was the second time today he had declared his love for her without actually saying it. He could say it easily, Emma knew he could. But he wouldn’t, not until she had said it. He always let her take the lead.
Emma felt the anger slip away, and in its place came her old familiar friend, fear. She pulled herself away from Killian roughly; let him think she was still angry. Then she fled his cabin as fast as she could.
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Four
The fourth time Emma saw Killian with his shirt off, “I love yous” had been said, and an alternate reality had confirmed that in any time, any realm, any reality, Killian would do anything for her. So sure was Emma that their love was enduring, she had moments before attempted a true love’s kiss to rid her of the darkness. It hadn’t worked. The darkness was seducing her, claiming her. She could feel it.
She wandered the corridors of Arthur’s castle, trying not to think of how wonderfully heady it was to use her magic when saving Robin. She felt it – the dark magic – clawing just beneath her skin. The demon who followed her everywhere whispered in her ear to just embrace it. His incessant taunting made her long for Killian’s embrace, to silence the voice for just a moment.
It had only been a thought; she hadn’t meant to use her magic. But suddenly, the smoke was clearing, and there was Killian. He jumped slightly at her sudden appearance in his chamber, but then stepped towards her in concern. He had obviously been preparing for bed; his leather pants were still on, but he was bare chested and without his brace. He cupped her cheek in his hand.
“What’s the matter, my love?”
Unsure how to explain the apparition that haunted her, she simply murmured in anguish, “Hold me, Killian. Just hold me.”
It was all she had to say. He wrapped his strong arms around her and held her close. Emma pressed her cheek to his bare shoulder, breathing him in. The demon was gone. Emma sighed and nuzzled deeper into Killian’s embrace. He ran his fingers through her hair and placed a chaste kiss to the top of her head.
Chaste wasn’t what she craved, however. Why was she always denying herself the pleasures right in front of her? She and Killian loved each other, didn’t they? And here they were in this chamber, all alone. Emma tilted her head back, wrapping her hand around the nape of Killian’s neck. She pulled him to her and kissed him. She sighed as he returned the kiss, mouths parting to deepen it. The passion between them had always been a simmering heat, and Emma for the first time allowed herself to fully become inflamed. Their kisses became more passionate, hands roaming. She heard Killian moan. He lowered her to his bed, and Emma tipped her head back as Killian trailed hot, wet kisses down her neck. Emma’s mouth closed over Killian’s again. She bit down on his lower lip as she wrapped her legs around him. She dragged her fingernails down his back. Killian groaned loudly and pulled back, panting. His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked down at Emma. He shook his head.
“This isn’t you, Emma.” He sat up shakily, running his hand down his face.
“It is me, Killian,” Emma protested, scooting close to him. She trailed kisses along his bare shoulder. Killian stood quickly.
“I don’t want to make love to you for the first time while the darkness is in you,” Killian explained sadly, shaking his head.
Emma visibly recoiled from him. Killian noted her body language and rushed to explain, “It would feel like I was taking advantage of you. I don’t want it tainted like that.”
Emma shuddered as she heard the demon again from the corner of the room. “You disgust him. You’re now the thing he hated all those years. He despises you.”
“No,” Emma whispered, “he loves me.”
“Of course I love you, Emma,” Killian explained, dropping to his knees beside her. “That’s why I can’t take advantage of you like this.”
Emma straightened her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at him. “You think I’m weak! I am NOT weak.”
“Emma, I didn’t mean –“ but before he could finish, Emma was gone in a puff of smoke.
From then on, for the rest of her stay in Camelot, she spent every sleepless night fashioning dream catchers. Every frustratingly sleepless night.
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Five
The fifth time Emma saw Killian with his shirt off, amazingly, was their wedding night. She tethered Killian to the darkness before she could be freed from it, then he had died, and then she was attempting to rescue him from the Underworld. Once he was brought back to life, they were separated again, albeit briefly. When they were reunited, and Emma declared her love in a safe, quiet moment, Killian had literally swept her off her feet. The second he set her down, he told her there was something he had to ask her before the next crisis hit: would she be his wife? No sooner had Emma said “yes,” than Leroy came running around the corner shouting about strange visitors invading Storybrooke
Emma and Killian had decided to get married two weeks later for that very reason. Who knew when some new monster or villain would descend on the town? As it were they were forced to squeeze in wedding planning amidst drama from Mr. Hyde, Jafar, and Regina’s evil twin. Thankfully, their wedding day came just as peace (brief, more than likely) descended on Storybrooke once again.
And thus, Emma Swan, expert at one-night stands and Captain Hook, who had slept with every woman who was willing (and they were pretty much all willing) up and down every coast on every realm, ended up arriving at their wedding night far from virgins, but unknown to one another.
Emma wasted no time revealing Killian’s bare chest. She pushed him to the bed, straddling him just as she’d done the night he got the Jolly Roger back.
“Emma,” Killian chuckled as she kissed his throat, “just a minute, love.”
Emma pulled back and groaned in frustration. “Killian, if you try to give me a reason for not making love right now, I swear I’ll turn this room into a scene from Poltergeist.”
Killian quirked an eyebrow at her. “Far be it from me to deny my bride. But I do recall promising to ravish you properly. And I can’t do that unless I take” - and here he placed a kiss along her jaw – “my” - he kissed her neck – “time.” – and here she shivered as he placed a kiss between her breasts.
Emma looked at him with a smirk of her own. Placing both hands on his chest, she pushed him backwards onto the bed, then pinned his arms down on either side of his head, just as she had done the day she learned he hadn’t really died as a not-so-cowardly deckhand. Her tongue shot out to wet her lower lip as she looked down at him.
“Maybe, pirate, I want to ravish you.”
The grin he gave her could light up a room. “As you wish.”