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Captain Hook
"It's always nice to make an impression."
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 29, 2014 20:20:55 GMT
Rum? IT'S NOT A WEAPON;
NOT IN THE TRADITIONAL SENSE She began to move her nails over his shirt before working on getting it off. And Hook of course, had absolutely no objections. He wasn't thinking if this was her first time, or if she had done this before. He was merely reacting. What he did know was that he wanted her badly right now, and his body was showing clear signs of this. When he finished ripping the back of her dress, he moved his lips from her shoulder and proceed to use his hook to pull off the dress from the front, letting it fall to her hips.
He took the opportunity to let his gaze linger over her perfectly formed body. If his hand wasn't currently occupied elsewhere on her, he would have most certainly felt the perfection of her figure. But he was exploring it somewhere else . . . besides, they had plenty of time. Because, what else was there to do on this bloody island? He couldn't take it any longer. His lips went to hers, kissing her deeply and passionately. Her lips were as soft and delicious as he had imagined, and he found himself craving more and more of her. She may be working on his shirt, but there was elsewhere that he needed to freed. He continued to kiss her with fervent desire, as he moved his hand from her leg and moved it to his pants, starting to unfasten them.
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Captain Hook
"It's always nice to make an impression."
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 29, 2014 19:45:47 GMT
Emma? WHO'S EMMA? I ONLY SEE YOU He watched her intently as she used her tongue to wet her lips, finding every action she did right now intensify his need for her. He locked his gaze onto hers, even while she spoke, questioning which room they would be going to. Her following question however about what she she would get for winning, was what he responded to first.
He leaned forward, his lips just barley touching hers, enough to feel how moist hers were due to her recent actions. Instead of properly kissing her though, he just spoke. "Why tell you when I can better show you," he stated, a devious smile on his lips.
He then slowly moved back, giving her the space to move. He lowered his hand from the wall and extended it forward. "Lead the way, love," he told her, following her as they began to make their way up the stairs. Finally. It was not much longer now. Thus far, she was doing a wonderful job in distracting him from all else . . . and now, it was only going to get better.
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Captain Hook
"It's always nice to make an impression."
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 29, 2014 19:12:55 GMT
Emma? WHO'S EMMA? I ONLY SEE YOU She told him that he wasn't going to win, and was about to accept the challenge . . . when she suddenly transformed into her fairy form and zipped off in front of him. He slowed to a stop and just stared at the trail she left behind her. It was enough to cause his lips to curve into another smile. "Well played, Fairy," he commended, even if she couldn't hear him. With that, he returned to a jog to ensure she wasn't waiting long. That, and he was eager to get there and be alone with her.
When he got there, she was standing at the bottom of the stairs, teasing him for taking so long and suggesting that he didn't want her. And she was casting him a rather innocent look. One that made her look all the more desirable, not that she was looking anything less. He stepped toward her, hardly leaving any space between them so as he stepped forward, it caused her to step back, until her back was against the wall.
He raised his hand, pressing it against one side of the wall so that his arm would stop her from moving, as was his body now that it was pressed against her. He didn't care if anyone came in and saw them. He was far beyond caring . . . not that he also planned to do too much outside of the privacy of the room. His eyes gleamed with desire and lust, making sure she had no doubt about how much he wanted her in this moment. "I may have to be more persuasive then," he told her, his eyes piercing her with intent longing.
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Captain Hook
"It's always nice to make an impression."
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 29, 2014 18:58:36 GMT
Rum? IT'S NOT A WEAPON;
NOT IN THE TRADITIONAL SENSE It was clear that the joking was over. She said that she could help, and then moved to sit astride him. His eyes locked onto her, lingering over her body in this new position as he sat up, her legs on either side of him. One hand went to her leg, sliding up it to feel her skin and move her dress up so that he could caress her leg. His lips slightly parted as she spoke of what his hook could do . . . and then she began to rock against him. He deeply inhaled in the sensation it created, causing his own arousal to thicken. He had wanted her before, but now, she was turning that desire into a strong physical need . . . one that he would not be able to deny for long. Not with her words and alluring figure on him like this, moving against him like this.
He needed to keep enough of his wits about him in order to speak. She was certainly no ordinary fairy and he was quite happy for that. "Quite a bit," he answered in a slightly deeper voice than usual. Because of her; because of all she was making him to feel in this sensation. His hand slid higher up her leg, moving to her inner thigh. At the same time, his hook went to her neck, the side of it gliding against her neck to behind it, and then used to point of it to begin to trail down her back, slowly tearing the seams in her dress as it went down, without piercing her skin. Soon enough, it began to loosen around her shoulder and Hook took advantage as he leaned forward, kissing the exposed part of her shoulder, teasing the skin and enjoying the taste and softness of it.
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Captain Hook
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 29, 2014 18:37:51 GMT
Emma? WHO'S EMMA? I ONLY SEE YOU She spoke of how it was a good thing she wasn't wearing anything sentimental. The fact that she was playing along . . . well, this was precisely why he had sought her out. Why he knew that she was the person he wanted, the person he needed. "Indeed. For it would not survive the night," he assured her. The bed and breakfast could not come soon enough.
Yet as if she could somehow sense his impatience -- or whether she was being playful -- she suggested racing there, and quickly darted off toward their destination. He stopped walking and just watched her for a few moments. A small smile formed on his lips. Not one of crudeness or perversion, but a genuine small smile. For in all his heartache, Tinkerbell managed to make him forget, bringing forth her playfulness which he was often enticed by. In Neverland, and especially now. Realizing that by not moving, he was not getting closer, he began to follow her in a bit of a jog rather than speedy run. He grew nearer to her, asking her a question when he was within earshot. "What do I get if I win?" He asked curiously, smirking at all the possible answers.
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 29, 2014 18:12:22 GMT
Rum? IT'S NOT A WEAPON;
NOT IN THE TRADITIONAL SENSE She entertained the idea of re-exploring that theory and if things went the way they seemed to be . . . well, perhaps it would just happen without them having to over think it. Not that they were capable of thinking about anything right now considering their highly intoxicated state. She then seemed surprised as her hair fell around her shoulders, stating that she had never wore it down like this.
That it had always been up. And then questioned whether it looked ok. "It does," he said a little absent mindedly as if he was dazed out for a moment. His moved his hand, twirling one of her loose locks around his finger before she pulled it back to quickly tie it up again. He didn't know why he suddenly took it as a challenge to take her hair out again. But for the time being, he resisted the urge.
Upon saying her next words, it was clear that the mood was shifting. The slight tremble in her voice, her simply spoken words . . . and then of course, what followed. Her asking if she could see his 'sword' as he had suggested a double meaning of the word. She still held his hook, looking at him and he returned the intent gaze. He smirked, his lips curving upward into a smile.
His hand moved to her chin as he leaned toward her, as if to press his lips against hers but paused before they were mere inches apart. "Aye," he began to say. He lightly kissed her chin before using his hand to tilt her head upwards a bit. His lips then went to the front of her neck, lightly kissing along her skin. "But only if you give me something to put it in," he finished in between kisses, not even bothering trying to be subtle in his meaning.
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 29, 2014 17:52:03 GMT
Emma? WHO'S EMMA? I ONLY SEE YOU She was finally allowing all her concerns to ebb away as she began to join in the flirtatious teasing, building that playful mood that they once had. Only this time, they were far more sober. As she spoke of how he had plucked her hair tie, and then entertained the thought of wondering what else he could quickly pluck off . . . well, it gave him rather enjoyable mental images.
He leaned toward her, keeping their pace, but taking advantage of the opportunity to offer some words in return. His lowered his head as his lips moved close to her ear. "You need not wonder much longer, love," he said in a low voice. "Though I think there will be less plucking and more, tearing," he suggestively stated, simultaneously raising his hook a bit so that she could see exactly what he meant by that . . . and what method he planned to use to achieve it.
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 29, 2014 17:23:11 GMT
Right Now WE HAVE A QUIET MOMENT Hook couldn't refrain from smiling when she said that the game was on, and then she proceeded to nip his skin and gently caressed his chest. It gave him a strong comfort he had not thought possible, and he couldn't help but close his own eyes and deeply inhale in pure relaxation. He felt so serene, so at peace. As incredible as it was to make love to her, the aftermath provided equal pleasure, for this was a sort of intimacy that neither of them frequently explored . . . or even necessarily found. Yet now, here, they had found it in each other. She said that she was going to wave the white flag, admitting surrender.
"Don't feel too bad about that, love," he teased. "You lasted an impressive while," he said, continuing to tease her, aware of how competitive they both were. His mind went to their first kiss, prompted by her firstly saying that he wouldn't be able to handle it and then his countered words saying that she wouldn't be able to handle it. And alas, she had pulled him in for the kiss. Her next words caused him to let out a slight chuckle. "No, you don't," he continued to tease. Truth was, any relations he had in the past -- with the exception of Milah -- meant nothing. Fleeting moments of lust. But with Emma, it was are deeper; far stronger. He was in love with her, and no other compared to that. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to have fun with it. "Why, jealous, Swan?" He continued to joke.
As she curled closer toward him, he pressed her closer to him, his thumb grazing her upper bare up in a repeated up and down motion. Her skin was so soft and he enjoyed feeling her against him. She spoke of how he was dangerous; how her walls were starting to crumble. He could tell that she was drifting, but hearing the words filled him with a strong joy. He had known she was lowering her guard, but he couldn't hear it enough.
"Aye," he began to say, agreeing with her initial words. "But you enjoy the danger and thrill of it,," he said, partially teasing, but there was truth to the words. "There's nothing you need to do about it," he continued, on a more serious note. He wasn't sure if she would remember these words in the morning, but he felt the need to say them anyway. "You've already destroyed my walls. It's only fair I return the favor." Still playful words, but entirely true. She had broken that wall and shown him how to have purpose again. How to feel again. How to have a heart again. How to truly love again.
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 29, 2014 16:46:11 GMT
Emma? WHO'S EMMA? I ONLY SEE YOU She told him that he didn't have to talk her into it; that she was already convinced. Well that was good. Meant she wouldn't change her mind when they got back to the bed and breakfast. She then took his hook in her hand and led him. She met his gaze and spoke of how it was still shiny, which caused a smirk to make its way on his face.
"Aye," he stated, recalling the first time she had said it. Despite how drunk they had gotten, he still remembered bits and pieces of the conversation . . . including his response which had been: you should see my sword. An incredibly cheesy innuendo and this time, he thought he would step it up a little. Besides, he wasn't nearly as inebriated now as he was before. Though he doubted with his state of mind, he would make a happy drunk right now. "And also like before, there are many pleasures that can be had with it," he stated, his words clearly suggestive. Suddenly, the walk to the bed and breakfast felt further than he had initially thought . . . though perhaps part of that was due to the anticipation of getting there. So that he could be with her.
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 28, 2014 11:30:00 GMT
I'm a hell
OF A CAPTAIN Bloody hell, this was not good. Smee had been gone far too long. Killian had received a tip that something which could help find the dagger could be found on the ship that they had been spending quite some time tracking. What that something was, Killian had no damn clue. He had sent Smee to lurk around the ship in attempt to find it.
But he had been gone for far too long, and Hook knew that it meant something had gone wrong. That Smee had been caught . . . or worse. But Killian would not consider the latter. He planned to retrieve his crew mate, but also did not want to barge on the ship in attempt to take it over. No. They had to be more subtle about this. Partly because if Smee didn't find what they were looking for, then Hook wanted to be able to search the ship for it as well. If the only way to do that was a take over, then so be it. "Here's the plan lads," he began, his crew was gathered around him as they finalized the plan. Hook paused for a moment, glancing at Katalina. "And lass," he added, incorporating her sex into the statement for he was far from forgetting that there was indeed a woman aboard the ship.
"I'll go on board using one of our row boats to find Smee. If you don't receive the signal, then hold your position and I should return quickly." Because if he didn't have to give it, it meant that everything was going according to plan and that he didn't need assistance. "If you see the flame, then you know what that means," he added, his word responded to with a rumble of eyes from the crew. It meant that they would quickly sail out from the darkness and fog, and take over the ship. "I still want to know where that dagger is, so keep the causalities to a minimum." Not out of mercy, but in case someone knew something that could help him retrieve the dagger. "Any questions?" He asked, his eyes surveying the crew around him.
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 28, 2014 11:16:50 GMT
Rum? IT'S NOT A WEAPON;
NOT IN THE TRADITIONAL SENSE Tink pointed out that one could not have rum without a rump. "How right you are, love," he stated, agreeing with those words whole heartedly. "What is rum without a rump and what is a rump without rum?" Hook added. She questioned how she was supposed to test her theory when he was sitting on his rump. He only smiled in response before speaking. "Perhaps later we will revisit this theory," he suggested, though he had no idea when and where later was. He wasn't thinking of his words or even trying to understand the meaning of them . . . for there was none.
She said how her hair did look like a funny, but that she still was unable to tip it. Killian raised his hook to her bun, eying it carefully. He latched the small tie that bound her hair up in his hook and pulled it, causing the tie to snap and her hair to loosely fall to her shoulders. "There," he stated proudly, grinning as he helped her complete their version of her tipping her hat to him. She then spoke out a series of names, causing Killian to chuckle at each and every one, until she got to the last: Stinkersmell.
How utterly amusing, but now he had to find out if there was truth to it. He leaned toward her, his heading moving extremely close to the side of her neck, his lips just barley brushing against it. He took a slow and deep breath, as if taking in her scent. And it was an alluring one. After a few moments, he slowly withdrew, moving his head back to meet her gaze.
"You definitely do not Stinkersmell, Tinkerbell," he said, realizing that the words rhymed which made her nickname for herself all the more hilarious, causing him to chuckle once more. He hadn't even noticed until now! How clever she was. She exclaimed her relief over not being the bean man. She may be green like one, but she certainly was no man. Far from it. Distracted in his appreciation that she was no man, he refocused on the conversation as she moved closer to him.
He watched her quite intently, a gleam of lust in his eyes. Though her fingers were moving over his hook, he kept his gaze locked on her face, watching her every move, as his tongue slightly ran over his lips, watching her with a sudden urge of longing. She spoke of how his hook was shiny, while clutching his replacement of a hand. "You should see my sword," he told her suggestively, for it was clear it was an innuendo; that he was referring to something other than his actual sword.
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 28, 2014 10:45:23 GMT
if the heart can be BROKEN MEANS IT STILL WORKS She took the bottle as offered, and then passed it back to him, stating that every rule had its exception. And that he needed the drink more than she did. That was probably true. There were of course many reasons for drinking -- most of Killian's reasons had been to enjoy himself. But this time, the past several times . . . ever since the day she died in fact, he had drank to forget and to prevent himself from feeling. Forcing himself to fall into darkness and then dreading when the sun came up. The only motivation he had to move as the need for revenge which had consumed whatever was left of his soul and heart. But once he had claimed that . . . he had no idea what would come next.
More. Aye. He would probably need more. He was nearly done this bottle and he was still conscious. How unfortunate. He turned his head to look at her, unsure what emotion was behind his gaze. In his grief stricken state, his mind searched for something that resembled Milah. No one had been like her, and he knew he was not thinking clearly. But it was the hair. Yes. Her long, dark, hair looked similar to his Milah's. Killian turned his head away from Katalina, and back forward, continuing to stare at nothing in particular. "What I need, is to quench my thirst for vengeance," he stated in a low, firm voice. "Until then, not even all the drink in the world will satisfy me." Rum provided an outlet each night, but his obsession for revenge dominated him. As did his devastation over losing Milah.
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 28, 2014 8:09:14 GMT
Live TO FIGHT ANOTHER DAY Killian eyed the men as they looked at him in return, threw Katalina back, and then charged at him. He could feel the scene being watched by his crew, but at the same time . . . they knew better than to intervene in a fight that the Captain was currently engaging in. If he didn't feel confident, he wouldn't have stepped in. And to have his own backup would be rather offensive at this point. The odds were still in his favor for these men had no skill when it came to combat. They were just drunk brutes who preferred to overpower petite women because they wouldn't be able to handle themselves in a real fight. This, was proof of that.
One of the men fell when Katalina tripped him and then proceeded to punch him. She still seemed to have a little fight in her. But Killian was paying more attention to his attacker as he came at him. Killian ducked at one of the punches, moved to the side for the other, and then caught the man's arm at the third attempt, moving behind him and twisting his arm along with his movement, causing the man to cry out in pain as Killian quite successfully dislocated his shoulder. He then shoved the man and fisted his own hand, creating a strong impact between his fist and the man's jaw which was enough to the send the attack back, stumbling over a table and falling to the ground unconscious. It helped that Killian often wore rather large rings on his fingers . . . it added to the pain of punching someone.
He then focused on the other man that Katalina had punched, quickly taking advantage of the man's stunned state over unexpectedly getting tripped. "Allow me," Killian stated, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt and pulling him to his feet. He proceeded to knee him in the stomach, strike him across the face with his fist, and then he grabbed him again by his shirt and pushed him against the wall. With one hand, he still gripped the shirt and with the other, he swiftly pulled out a dagger and pressed the blade against the man's throat. Not enough to kill him, but enough to cut him with the sharpness of his weapon to show that he was not kidding.
"Best we never meet again. For if we do, I'll be the last person you will ever see, mate." Meaning, he best stay out of Killian's way and frequent taverns that the pirate didn't. With those words he struck the hilt of his dagger against the man's head, sending him the floor to join darkness with the other unconscious man. It was good to sometimes leave survivors, for they would be able to spread the word of Captain Killian Jones; a pirate not to be trifled with. He then smiled as his crew as they began cheering and applauding, taking in this histrionic display by slightly bowing in front of them as he had just put on a rather good show. His smile was an amused one for he had not for a moment been worried or phased by the men. After a few moments, his eyes went to Katalina, his smile fading as he just looked at her. Now the question began, what was he going to do with her?
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 28, 2014 7:44:47 GMT
Till Death DO US PART As expected, the moment they arrived, their absence had been noticed. The newly wedded couple shared a first dance, before her attentions were being demanded elsewhere by all those who wished to dance with her or offer their congratulations. Killian took a few steps back, and a few more until he left the crowd surrounding Emma, and allowing others -- mainly her family -- to have their time with her. This was all a bit much for the reformed pirate. It wasn't that he was getting married, it was the extravagance of the event, and the massive number of guests that had arrived to celebrate. This would be the time to have a drink, but he had promised himself to not touch a single alcoholic beverage today. Not even rum.
He stood to the side, hoping to just blend in with the crowd -- which was easier to do when he wasn't standing next to Emma for her radiance was from from inconspicuous. He also was well aware of the occasional glances he received from some of the guests. Disapproving looks no doubt; whispers from those who knew of him. He always returned the glanced with a bit of a cheek smile and sometimes a wink if he really wanted to make them gasp. He was not bothered by these people. He cared only about the woman he was marrying and her happiness. His eyes began searching the large crowd for Smee -- who was undoubtedly enjoying the grand buffet -- when Killian felt a light tap on his shoulders.
He turned around to see Tinkerbell, a presence that made a smile immediately form on his lips. Even more so when she assured him that she didn't have a dagger this time, and then asked him for a dance. "It would be my honor," he told her, holding out his hand as he led her to where the others were dancing and gained his position; taking one hand of her hands in his, and his other hand going to her waist. When they were ready, he began to move, falling in sync with the music. "You look stunning tonight, Tink," he told her. His words -- for once -- were not filled with crude insinuations, or hints of suggestiveness . . . they were genuine. Sincere. And truly meant to compliment her. Tinkerbell was one of the few here that he felt comfortable with. So he was quite glad that she found him and that he could not relax in her presence.
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Post by Killian Jones on Nov 28, 2014 7:34:22 GMT
Emma? WHO'S EMMA? I ONLY SEE YOU She suggested being like that here, which really, was what Hook needed. Perhaps he wanted something else, but what did that matter? False hope was far more torturous than having no hope at all. She went on to say that they had more fun there because things had been different; she suggested that he was free but she had not been. That she was confused for she knew not where she stood now . . . and that she missed being allowed to be who she truly was. He was in no frame of mind to offer complex advice. But he could at least give some input into her words.
"You are allowed to be whomever you wish," he began to tell her. "No one has the right to dictate your life." His defiant words were what prompted him to become a pirate in the first place: deviating from the law and social norms of the kingdom. Rebelling against the crown and those who wished to enforce the law upon them. "We are not obligated to anyone but ourselves." He had learned that the difficult way. He had felt obligated to Emma -- perhaps he still did in some way, but that was what he was trying to forget right now. His obligation had resulted in heartbreak and in his pain stricken state, he vowed never to make that mistake again. He was perceived as a pirate and that was something that he would always remain.
Tinkerbell was no exception to this in the sense that, if she truly wanted to be herself, then what was stopping her now? Judgment from Blue? From others? What did it matter anyway. Everyone here was guilty for something or another. She then agreed to have a drink; one that was already placed out in front of her. Hook stood there, watching her with a slight smirk as she marched up to the table and downed the beverage in one large gulp. "Now that's the Tink I know," he told her with a subtle smirk, following her as she walked out the door. The bed and breakfast obviously was not far from here, but the fresh air and short walk would do them good.
Part of him hoped that Emma saw him with Tinkerbell. And then he quickly pushed out those thoughts. He didn't want to think of Swan tonight. He didn't want to think about anything. He pulled out his flask -- the very flask that had caused them to become ridiculously drunk in Neverland -- and took a large gulp. This would certainly help him forget . . . as would Tinkerbell. He had no doubts about her capabilities to distract him and was looking forward to exploring them.
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