A Stranger's Kiss (Captain Swan)
Title: A Stranger's Kiss
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Characters/Pairing: Hook/Emma
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt: #74: Rough
Word Count: 1,182
SPOILERS!: Going Home
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners, not the author.
She hasn't dreamed in a long time. She didn't have the hope or time while building this life, and dreams aren't something she misses. She indulges her son in them, as she does all things, always asking him each morning about his dreams. He asks her in turn, and she always replies the same over her cup of hot chocolate. (Funny how he's managed to change even that about her. She still has her java, but always shares a cup of cocoa with him every morning, even during Summer.) If she tells him, "Nothing special," again this morning, however, she'll be lying, and she's never lied to Henry.
She hasn't dreamed in a long time. The last dreams she remembers were of a fairy tale land with the parents she invented for herself, Snow White and Prince Charming. Henry was there, too, and she was an adult. Yet, Emma's still pretty sure she must have been a child to be dreaming of fairy tales.
She saw them again last night, but only for a moment. She was moving away from them. She might have thought that notion to be Freudian, but there was more to her dream than the fairy tale land in which she used to want to live. He was there.
She must be a fool, she tells herself as she downs another cup of coffee. She usually only has two before her cocoa, but this is her fourth mug. She's eager to forget her dream and even more eager to put as much distance between this morning and yesterday as possible.
She must be a fool. She must be crazy. Those are the only reasons why she can think of that she can not forget about him. Well, that, she admits silently, toying with the edge of the napkin left over from her toast, and the fact that it's been a very long time since she was even kissed.
And oh, what a kiss! For an insane psychopath, that stranger definitely landed a major liplock on her. She's read about kisses like that, seen them in movies, but never experienced one herself. She'd thought she'd loved Henry's father, but even their best kiss might have had half the passion that that one yesterday morning did.
He had been forceful. He had forced his way pass her door and onto her body, and that should have made her afraid of him. She had been angry, and she'd had every right to that fury. Yet, anger hadn't been the first thing she'd felt when his lips had touched hers.
His tongue had dove immediately into her mouth, neither taking quarter, or time for acceptance, or giving it. It had danced with hers, sparking more passion, and although his body against hers had been hard and solid as a very muscular rock and his grip had been rough, there had somehow still been a shiver of gentility in the fingers that had held her head captive, especially in the thumb that had stroked her cheek.
For a moment, she'd not thought of the danger. She wouldn't have cared that she was in danger if she had realized it, not in danger of another broken heart or quite possibly for her very life. She had almost given herself to that man, that stranger, and if not for having heard Henry behind her and realizing that he presented not just endangerment for her but for her son, as well, she doubted she would have broken the kiss of or slung him outside of her home.
She might well have given herself to him. She shivers again at the thought. A part of her wants him to come back and ravish her again. She's both horrified and disgusted by her desire, and yet another part is trying to tell her there was something familiar about his hot body pressed so closely against hers.
Her eyes flash as she slaps her emptied mug down onto the table. There was nothing familiar about that man! she tells herself yet again. There was nothing safe about him or handsome or sexy! She did not want to be raped, and that's surely what would have happened if she had allowed him entrance to her home and to her!
Her blonde head shook. She was losing it. She had been chaste so long now that she was beginning to completely lose her mind! Cold showers, romance books, and even a vibrator could only get a girl so far. She needed a man. So she'd hire a babysitter for Friday night and have herself a one night stand. But she didn't need or want a stranger.
Wasn't that exactly what she'd pick up at the bar, though? Everybody was a stranger when you first met them. She and Neal had been strangers at first. She scoffs at herself, rises from her seat, and heads over to the dishwasher, all while telling herself, Yeah. Look how well that turned out. The man had left her in jail, pregnant with his son, and yet, still she couldn't forget him!
She couldn't forget that dashing stranger from yesterday morning, either. Her mug slips from her hand and clatters into the dishwasher as she again shakes her head at herself. That stranger wasn't dashing, and who used words like that any longer any way?! He was dangerous, a rapist, and had to be on drugs, too! He was everything she didn't need in her life -- everything Henry didn't need in a father!
"Mom!" She whirls around with an obvious look of guilt on her face, but Henry's running too fast to notice her look. "Why didn't you wake me?" he demands. "It's seven thirty! I'm going to be late to school!"
"No, you're not. I'll get you there. You'll be fine." She grabs his lunch and bookbag while instructing him to grab his breakfast and eat it on the way and sternly telling herself the truth of her own words.
He is going to be fine. They're going to be fine. They've been fine all this time without a man for her or a father for him. They don't need a family. She doesn't need parents, and he doesn't need a father. They only need each other, and they'll be just fine.
They rush from the apartment, side by side, Henry reluctantly leaving their hot cocoa behind and Emma not even noticing that their morning traditions have been broken. As Emma cranks the car, she checks the mirrors, looks around, and realizes the stranger is nowhere to be seen; she peels out a little faster than she should, his image still lingering in her mind, the taste of his lips on her mouth, and the desire ignited refusing to be hushed in her heart. Their mugs grow cold alone in their apartment, and in the shadows, a Pirate waits. He waits and smiles, knowing that it won't be much longer before Emma does remember, she and the boy return to him and the rest of Storybrooke, and they all have a family together again.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Characters/Pairing: Hook/Emma
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt: #74: Rough
Word Count: 1,182
SPOILERS!: Going Home
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners, not the author.
She hasn't dreamed in a long time. She didn't have the hope or time while building this life, and dreams aren't something she misses. She indulges her son in them, as she does all things, always asking him each morning about his dreams. He asks her in turn, and she always replies the same over her cup of hot chocolate. (Funny how he's managed to change even that about her. She still has her java, but always shares a cup of cocoa with him every morning, even during Summer.) If she tells him, "Nothing special," again this morning, however, she'll be lying, and she's never lied to Henry.
She hasn't dreamed in a long time. The last dreams she remembers were of a fairy tale land with the parents she invented for herself, Snow White and Prince Charming. Henry was there, too, and she was an adult. Yet, Emma's still pretty sure she must have been a child to be dreaming of fairy tales.
She saw them again last night, but only for a moment. She was moving away from them. She might have thought that notion to be Freudian, but there was more to her dream than the fairy tale land in which she used to want to live. He was there.
She must be a fool, she tells herself as she downs another cup of coffee. She usually only has two before her cocoa, but this is her fourth mug. She's eager to forget her dream and even more eager to put as much distance between this morning and yesterday as possible.
She must be a fool. She must be crazy. Those are the only reasons why she can think of that she can not forget about him. Well, that, she admits silently, toying with the edge of the napkin left over from her toast, and the fact that it's been a very long time since she was even kissed.
And oh, what a kiss! For an insane psychopath, that stranger definitely landed a major liplock on her. She's read about kisses like that, seen them in movies, but never experienced one herself. She'd thought she'd loved Henry's father, but even their best kiss might have had half the passion that that one yesterday morning did.
He had been forceful. He had forced his way pass her door and onto her body, and that should have made her afraid of him. She had been angry, and she'd had every right to that fury. Yet, anger hadn't been the first thing she'd felt when his lips had touched hers.
His tongue had dove immediately into her mouth, neither taking quarter, or time for acceptance, or giving it. It had danced with hers, sparking more passion, and although his body against hers had been hard and solid as a very muscular rock and his grip had been rough, there had somehow still been a shiver of gentility in the fingers that had held her head captive, especially in the thumb that had stroked her cheek.
For a moment, she'd not thought of the danger. She wouldn't have cared that she was in danger if she had realized it, not in danger of another broken heart or quite possibly for her very life. She had almost given herself to that man, that stranger, and if not for having heard Henry behind her and realizing that he presented not just endangerment for her but for her son, as well, she doubted she would have broken the kiss of or slung him outside of her home.
She might well have given herself to him. She shivers again at the thought. A part of her wants him to come back and ravish her again. She's both horrified and disgusted by her desire, and yet another part is trying to tell her there was something familiar about his hot body pressed so closely against hers.
Her eyes flash as she slaps her emptied mug down onto the table. There was nothing familiar about that man! she tells herself yet again. There was nothing safe about him or handsome or sexy! She did not want to be raped, and that's surely what would have happened if she had allowed him entrance to her home and to her!
Her blonde head shook. She was losing it. She had been chaste so long now that she was beginning to completely lose her mind! Cold showers, romance books, and even a vibrator could only get a girl so far. She needed a man. So she'd hire a babysitter for Friday night and have herself a one night stand. But she didn't need or want a stranger.
Wasn't that exactly what she'd pick up at the bar, though? Everybody was a stranger when you first met them. She and Neal had been strangers at first. She scoffs at herself, rises from her seat, and heads over to the dishwasher, all while telling herself, Yeah. Look how well that turned out. The man had left her in jail, pregnant with his son, and yet, still she couldn't forget him!
She couldn't forget that dashing stranger from yesterday morning, either. Her mug slips from her hand and clatters into the dishwasher as she again shakes her head at herself. That stranger wasn't dashing, and who used words like that any longer any way?! He was dangerous, a rapist, and had to be on drugs, too! He was everything she didn't need in her life -- everything Henry didn't need in a father!
"Mom!" She whirls around with an obvious look of guilt on her face, but Henry's running too fast to notice her look. "Why didn't you wake me?" he demands. "It's seven thirty! I'm going to be late to school!"
"No, you're not. I'll get you there. You'll be fine." She grabs his lunch and bookbag while instructing him to grab his breakfast and eat it on the way and sternly telling herself the truth of her own words.
He is going to be fine. They're going to be fine. They've been fine all this time without a man for her or a father for him. They don't need a family. She doesn't need parents, and he doesn't need a father. They only need each other, and they'll be just fine.
They rush from the apartment, side by side, Henry reluctantly leaving their hot cocoa behind and Emma not even noticing that their morning traditions have been broken. As Emma cranks the car, she checks the mirrors, looks around, and realizes the stranger is nowhere to be seen; she peels out a little faster than she should, his image still lingering in her mind, the taste of his lips on her mouth, and the desire ignited refusing to be hushed in her heart. Their mugs grow cold alone in their apartment, and in the shadows, a Pirate waits. He waits and smiles, knowing that it won't be much longer before Emma does remember, she and the boy return to him and the rest of Storybrooke, and they all have a family together again.
The End