#they also may or may not have destroyed said nymph's clothes before running away

[randomshenaniganery]

My bastard colorful mercenary stripped of their finery

They got punched on the face and they're trying to play it cool and swag as well as attempting to rizz their opponent so that they don't get punched again

[mermaidxatxheart]

The Queen of Wishful Thinking

Ok. So, this is the start of a new series that I’ve been working on for a couple years. This is the prelude to my teen wolf story. It’s an OFC. If you’d like to be tagged, let me know. send me an ask. I’m not stopping my other works. I’m still continuing all of my Bucky stories and the requests that I’ve received. I haven’t forgotten about them. But I’m struggling with the toxicity of the Marvel fandom at the moment. I won’t be tagging anyone from my Marvel tag lists specifically because they didn’t sign up for this genre. If you want to be on both, let me know. Here we go. Also, thank you to everyone who read this for me and encouraged me to post it. You guys have been sent by the gods. I love you so much.

Pairing: OFC X Derek Hale (future)

Word Count: 6732

Warnings: abuse, mentions of blood and violence. descriptions of pain and torture.

Summary: Aryanna was a special girl. Her parents got exactly what they wished for. But she’s the one paying the price. 

My birth should have been the best thing that ever happened to my parents. They had prayed to the gods for so long to bless them with a special child.

 Be careful what you wish for.

I tried to be normal.

 I tried desperately to be like everyone else.

 And the reality was that I wasn’t that different. I didn’t have extra arms, or a second belly button or anything weird. What made me special wasn’t visible. I don’t know what made him choose me, all I know was that it made my life miserable. Lord Apollo, the god of music, poetry, prophecies, light and truth, had picked me to bear the gift of foresight. Apparently, he was also the god of stupid decisions.

 Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I was different. It was supposed to be a special gift, craved by many. I was to be the next Seer. It was a popular practice in those days, most every village had one, as long as it was large enough. The one in my village was useless. He was called Aischylos. It should have been an obvious tell to anyone who spoke to him, seeking advice and consul that he’s a liar and a fraud since his name means ‘shame’. But, as usual, people see and believe what they want to.

 The very first vision I had was of my father when I was four years old. I had stayed home with my mother while she prepared her wine to sell. I was playing on the floor next to her and my sight disappeared. I blinked several times, and when it cleared, there was something strange about it. It was in front of me, but I could tell it wasn’t true. If I were to reach out and touch it, my hands would pass through air. It was rounded, and not all together clear, like I was looking at it through water. My father walked through the door with a large sack full of fish, a magnificent catch for the aging fisherman. I shook my head and my father was gone. I looked up at my mother and she smiled down at me.

 “Papa did good today, Mama.” I said simply and went back to playing with my wooden centaur figure. My father returned home soon after just as I had seen it in my mind. My mother looked from my father to the little girl sitting at her feet and she smiled wide, clearly happy but I was too young to understand what it was. 

 I didn’t see anything for a long time after that, I was close to my fifth year, I spoke to my mother of a time of man that was far away. A time when houses and structures soared high into the sky and horses were no longer used for common travel. I had seen it in a dream and it fascinated me. I had made the mistake of telling my mother in the market place and people overheard. Word spread like wildfire through our village about what I said, and the Seer, Aischylos, realized what it meant. That I was to take over his position. He no longer would get the respect and honor and good treatment that came along with his title. It would be handed over to a little girl and he would be cast aside, forgotten and forced to return to the status of everyone else in the village. He had spent countless years forging his ability that he didn’t have to get the status he didn’t deserve. He couldn’t just allow some stupid girl to take that away from him. But he bided his time, knowing I would not be eligible until my twelfth year. He watched me carefully, finding chances to whisper lies about me. He was a master of patience and manipulation.

 Living in a coastal village, there wasn’t much to do. But I was an adventurous girl, always finding places to hide and run off to. The other children would ask me questions to watch me predict the future, but I wasn’t allowed to give too much away. So, I enjoyed playing in the woods with the nymphs and satyrs, they didn’t care about using me to see the future. But they usually avoided the humans unless to tease them, so they were never much help in defending me. He would follow me, see that I was alone and go back to the village, whispering tales about witchcraft and evil. By the time I was nine, no one in my village trusted me. I was all but shunned. My mother and father were having issues at market, no one wanted to buy from them and it turned them bitter, turned them against me.

 My mother raged against me. Always berated me for any task that I did. No matter how well I did it, no matter if it was perfect, she would destroy it and shout at me, hitting me. My father couldn’t stand the sight of me. He would hit me for no reason at all. He encouraged his friends, our neighbors to hit me. They made me believe that I was a mistake, and the only way to make it right, to get them to love me, was to pray to the gods, begging Zeus and Apollo to take away this curse and make me like everyone else.

 Every night I would make the very long trip to Zeus’s temple, light candles and make offerings for the gods. Then I would pray with all my might that they would relieve me of this burden, so that I may be accepted. Every night, praying until I was numb with exhaustion. But I received no answer to my prayers, no matter how hard I muttered them and shouted them. No matter how many years I prayed, or food I sacrificed.

 When it became obvious that the gods weren’t going to answer my prayers, my father blamed me. He would hit me senseless and tell me I wasn't praying hard enough. There was no point in trying to hide the cuts and bruises on my skin, no one cared about me enough to even ask if I was okay. The villagers would even contribute at my father’s encouragement, throwing stones and rotten fruit at me, whatever they could find.

 One day, in the darkness of the early morning during my fifteenth year, I was roused out of a deep sleep. My father demanded I attend him on his boat with my mother. It had been a long time since they've wanted me on the boat, or even anywhere near them.

 I had a terrible feeling as I blundered around on the deck. Nerves racked my body, a heavy pit settling in my stomach. It had been so long since I handled the nets, my fingers had forgotten what to do. My mother was staying up by my father on the helm, speaking so quietly I had no chance of hearing. I stumbled over the ropes and crates littering the deck as we sailed smoothly out further into the vast expanse of Lord Poseidon's realm. Finally, I gave up on trying to move around and sat towards the front, watching the horizon grow lighter with Apollo rising the sun. I had a knot in my stomach-fear that they were going to bring me someplace to leave me, finally to be rid of me. But that seemed to not be the case as my father called across the boat for me to cast the nets.

 A few hours later we were finished, sacks of fish crowded the deck and a bloody spear was propped up against the mast. My father used it to defend the boat from the vicious sharks. We were headed back to land and I was starting to feel the knot in my chest loosen and relax. Maybe they really just needed my help. I was carrying a length of rope across the boat when it jerked suddenly. I lost my balance and fell forward just as the spear tipped towards me. It pierced my skin as easily as a knife through goat cheese and pain flared, burning my side. I cried out, flinging my hand against the mast to keep myself upright. I looked up at my parents for help, but they just stood at the wheel, watching my lifeblood pour out of my side.

 "Mama! Papa! Please!" I called desperately. I tried to pull the spear out of my side, but every time I touched the wooden handle, the pain only got worse. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I watched my parents turn their gazes away from me, pretending I wasn't dying. The boat bumped against the harbor dock and I scrambled away towards the side, frantic to get away before they finished killing me. 

                                                The spear got tangled on a rope and fresh blood ran out. I clamped my jaw shut and yanked it out. The pain nearly made me pass out, I swayed slightly and pressed my chiton against my side, hoping to stop the loss of the precious red liquid. The sight of it was making me dizzy as I struggled up over the side and up the dock. I barely managed to make it to my feet as I wobbled back towards the center of the village.

 I knew by now that it was useless to beg anybody to help me, I would have to do this on my own. I stumbled into my home, crashing into the walls as my vision swam. I gathered my mother's bone needle and linen threads from the loom where she crafted our clothes. I shook my head violently to clear my vision, but I only succeeded in losing my balance and falling against the door. I forced my way outside and headed for the tree line, able only to focus on managing that.

 The forest floor crunched beneath my feet, pine needles breaking and the noise was deafening. Branches whipped at my face as I ran, looking for privacy to stitch myself. I had heard of soldiers doing this in battle from the men at market. I just hoped I knew what I was doing. I found a large tree and slumped against the base, exhausted. My hand was covered in red as I numbly lifted the bone needle and the thread. I tied the thread through the hole and made a knot at the other end. It took me a dozen tries, my hands shaking and my vision blurring. My fingers were losing feeling and the linen kept slipping out of my hand, but I had to do this. I refused to let this be how I die.

 Somehow I managed to get the knot finished and I raised my arm, preparing myself to pierce my skin once more. The needle was thick, and long; and I had no sort of numbing agent to dull the pain.

 This would not be pleasant.

 I stabbed the needle through my skin, just below the wound and my vision clouded over, going black. The scream was unstoppable as burning hot pain spread across my chest. Everything in me begged me to stop, but I knew I couldn't. I needed to keep going, even though everything would be easier if I just let go. But that wasn't who I was. I didn't give up. I didn't quit even though the gods ignored me, I didn't give up on my parents - and I still wouldn't, even though they just tried to kill me. And I refused to give up on this, even though it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt before.

 I dragged the large needle through my skin, pulling tight and closing the wound. My lifeblood was already slowing down, becoming stickier. I pulled the needle through one last time and let it fall against my skin. I was exhausted both mentally and physically and I just wanted to sleep. My eyes fluttered closed and the vision started.

 A little boy of about three was running around a room. I couldn't see the details of the space, they were blurred, but I could hear his laughter, his tiny giggles. He ran around a table, his jet black hair blown back out of his face as he ran, his eyes green and bright. I saw myself chasing after him and I was laughing, looking truly happy. I could feel vision me, her happiness and contentedness flow into me and I felt at peace as I watched that little boy laugh. I didn't recognized the clothes on my body, they were foreign and unfamiliar but they weren't the important part. The little boy, he would be special, I could feel it in my bones.

 "Perseus!" I called to the little boy. He laughed hysterically and dove under the table, hitting his head on the bottom. He began to cry and I picked him up, comforting him as he clung to me. He turned around in my arms and seemed to look right at me.

 "Get up!" He said loudly and my eyes flew open.

 I groaned as I realized that night had fallen. I would have to walk back in the dark. I gingerly finished with the thread and began making my way back to the village. I would not give up, if only for the sake of seeing that little boy. I was determined to be that happy and content one day. I wouldn't stay here and be miserable forever.

 * * *

On the night of my eighteenth year, I was in the temple by myself, crying as I prayed. That day had been an exceptionally difficult one. I should have been Seer by then, but I wasn’t given the position because of people’s continued hatred of me. Aischylos was making a mess of everything. A little girl had gone to him with her mother for consul and he failed to warn them that the little girl would be hurt. A boy driving his father’s chariot had nearly run them down in the street, but I saw it before it happened. I pulled them out of the way and saved them, but my thanks was being screamed at that I was a monster and being pelted with stones. They hit me all over my body, cutting my skin and breaking my chest bones.

 So here I sit, on the temple floor, crying my eyes out, praying for relief. I want no part of this curse anymore.

 The candles had long since melted low, burning at the bitter end of their lives, and the sacrificial fire was all embers now. My head sank low on my chest with exhaustion from crying and shouting at the gods. I had run out of tears hours ago, but I had also run out of energy to make myself get up and go home. My eyes fluttered closed, blocking out the flickering light and the stone floor. The noise of the wind and sea outside dimmed remarkably as I drifted to sleep. I found that I preferred it here lately, no one to hate me here.

 I don’t know how long I slept there before a massive bang woke me. I fell back with a shout of surprise as I stared up at two figures standing twenty feet tall. I screamed and scrambled for the exit, tripping slightly over my chiton. One of the figures moved so quickly that I barely had time to blink my eyes before he was between me and the way out. I slid as I tried to stop, falling to the hard ground and hurting my wrist.

 “Is that any way to greet the Lord of Olympus?” The figure behind me growled. I looked between the two menacing figures and forced my pounding heart to slow.

 “L-Lord Zeus?” I stammered.

 “Obviously, girl. Use those eyes of yours.” He huffed. I quickly stood and bowed low. Zeus was not a figure to make angry.

 “Um, Lord Zeus, what are you doing here?” I asked, glancing at him as the other figure moved back beside Zeus. I recognized him as Apollo. He was very handsome with blond hair and deep blue eyes, tanned skin and a lithe muscular build. Zeus grunted and looked at Apollo, who tilted his head and raised a shoulder.

 “These mortals.” Zeus sighed. “You prayed to me, didn’t you, girl?” He snapped. I flinched back as his voice rumbled around the temple. Thunder clapped loudly outside as his anger flared. I clenched my jaw in annoyance.

 “I’ve prayed to you every night since I was nine!” I snapped back. “What are you doing here now?” He raised a dark eyebrow at me. I sighed and sat down hard, crossing my legs and holding my head in my hands. My forehead still stung where rocks had hit it, reminding me just how much of a horrible day I’ve had.

 “When you live for forever, girl, a few years means nothing to a god. You’ll understand what I mean.” He said, raising his hand. I snapped my head up, having to almost look straight up at him.

 “What?”

 “Your punishment.” Apollo said, looking down at me.

 “M-my punishment?” I shrieked. “For what?”

 “Your punishment.” Zeus said coldly. “You were given a gift and you want to throw it away. You think it’s a curse, well-I’m going to give you lifetimes to learn to appreciate your gift.”

 “No! You don’t understand! They hate me!” I shouted, tears filling my violet eyes once more.

 “They can’t hate their Seer.” Apollo said, frowning down at me.

 “I’m not their Seer! I’m not anything.”

 “What did you just say?” Zeus demanded, thunder clapping loudly outside.

 “They refused to give me the position.” I said, the tears spilling down my flushed cheeks. “They kept the fraud.”

 “That’s not possible.” Apollo said, sharing a look with his father.

 “But it’s the truth. Please don’t do this to me, I’ll never survive. They torment me and abuse me day after day. My parents have already tried to kill me. I won’t make it another year!” I pleaded. Apollo shrank down to regular mortal size and moved in front of me, kneeling down to be on the same level. Not something gods usually do, but I must have looked extra pathetic so he took pity.

 “What did they do?” He asked gently, putting his warm hands on my face.

 “They call me a witch and throw stones at me. My parents told me I was cursed, that I should never exist.” I said, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “Please? I won’t live a day if you do this.” I whispered, choking on tears.

 “My father has already made up his mind. But you’ll have other gifts to help you survive. I promise.” Apollo said softly, pressing a warm kiss to my forehead. It felt like soft sunshine on a warm summer’s day. “Close your eyes. It will be over soon.” He said, helping me stand up and hugging me against him. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until I touched his body. He radiated heat that warmed me from my head to my toes. I shivered slightly and squeezed my eyes shut, just as he said.

 “Is it going to hurt?” I whispered, my face pressed against his robe.

 “I don’t know.” He answered honestly. Even though my eyes were shut tight I saw a blinding flash and an intense, white hot pain racked my body. I screamed in torment, pushing away from Apollo and stumbling backwards. I felt like my skin was peeling off my body, layer by layer. The pain was too much, I was sure that nobody could take this much pain and survive. I could feel my muscles pulling apart the way a rope untwines. I could feel every fiber detaching from my bones and then separating themselves. I felt like I was burning hot, but I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t do anything to block the pain.

 Then the worst part came. Every bone in my body was ripped apart, dislocated and shattered into a thousand pieces like broken pottery. I should be dead. There’s no way I could survive this, but here I was, feeling every single second of it. My organs melted and my brain boiled as they destroyed me. I staggered backwards, completely disoriented, my throat raw from screaming. Suddenly my feet weren’t touching the stone floor anymore, there was nothing but air under them and I was falling backwards, fifteen feet to the hard packed earth below. I stretched my hand out, searching blindly for Apollo, the closest thing to me, but came up empty.

 * * *

The first thing I noticed was the sunlight warm on my face. I blinked my eyes open slowly, hoping that I had just had a dream; a really, really bad dream and I could pretend it never happened. I was lying flat on my back, looking straight up and that’s when I first noticed that something wasn’t right. Instead of the thatched roof of my sleeping room, or the cold marble of the temple, I was looking at the green leaves of trees with sunlight streaming through casting a green color on my skin. I looked around me, finally realizing that I wasn’t at my home. I was lying on the floor of a forest, and not one that I recognized. I rolled over to my hands and knees, expecting my whole body to ache. 

 There was no way I could have experienced that amount of pain and not feel any the next day, but I felt completely fine. Even my wrist, which I had hurt when I fell, had no pain. I stood up, brushing the fallen leaves and twigs off me and glanced around. I didn’t recognize these woods at all. It didn’t even smell the same.

 I heard noises in front of me, it sounded like women talking. There must be a road close by. I took a deep breath and headed in that direction. Maybe there’s a sign telling me which way is home. I ran through the trees, tripping over fallen logs before finally reaching an empty pathway, just wide enough for a cart to get through. I saw the ladies just down the road and I hurried after them.

 “Excuse me.” I said, reaching them. The three older ladies turned and looked at me expectantly. “Can you tell me which way it is to Akoluthos?” I asked politely, praying they would have heard of it. The tallest lady pointed behind me and I glanced. “Do you know how far?”

 “Three days by this road.” The woman to her left said. I nodded.

 “Thank you.” I turned and headed back towards my home, not looking forward to the three day walk. I took my time, not rushing my pace, keeping it slow and steady. I knew I was in big trouble for not coming home last night. My father was sure to punish me. Not to mention the fact that I will have been missing for days. This will be the worst punishment I’ve ever had.

 * * *

I crested the top of the ridge that borders my village and looked out over it. I don’t know what I had been expecting, some sort of urgency that I had been missing for three days. But, probably I should have seen this coming, everything was going about as it normally would. The sun was setting low in the sky as I hurried down the slope and headed for my home. It was almost night.

 I glanced around as I walked, feeling a strange sensation on the back of my neck. I saw people I recognized, people I had grown up with, but none of them looked the same. The streets smelled different and I felt like everything had been replaced by duplicates that were the same, but different.

 This wasn't home anymore.

 “Mama? Papa?” I called as I ran inside. My mother was in the kitchen, getting the evening meal ready. It was as if nothing was amiss.

 “Where have you been, you wicked child?” She snapped, turning around with the wooden spoon already in her hand. I flinched back instinctively, but I had to answer.

 “I was at the temple praying, like you told me to. Lord Zeus and Lord Apollo came to me and they said I had to be Seer. They said I was going to live forever.” I rushed, getting my story all jumbled in my anxiousness to explain. “Then,” I heard my father moving behind me and I backed into the wall with a quiet whimper, trying to make myself as small as possible.

 “Girl.” My father said, his hard voice quiet.

 “Papa, the gods said that I was to be Seer. That I had to be Seer. They were so angry that I didn’t want their gift, that you didn’t want me to be Seer. They said that I’m your gift.” I said, looking at him with pleading eyes. I should have known it wouldn’t have done any good. 

 My father’s hand flew before I ever even saw it move. It cracked hard against the side of my face, sending me sprawling into the eating table and wall. I cried out in pain, feeling a crack in my chest. After a few seconds it was gone. I looked up at him, tears filling my eyes.

 “Papa,” I started to plead.

 “This was not a gift, girl. You were not a gift to us. You are a curse on this land, on these good people. And I’ve had enough of it. I won’t have a monster like you terrorizing us anymore.” He growled, reaching down and grabbing a fistful of my hair. Strands ripped out painfully under his rough hand and I cried out in protest, my hand reaching up to grasp his wrist, hoping to lessen the pain. He started dragging me towards the door and kicked it open out of his way.

 “Papa, please don’t! You’ll make them angry and they won’t forgive you!” I cried, kicking my legs out to get caught on anything. “Papa!” 

 He didn’t reply, he just marched towards the center of town, dragging me along.

 “Mama!”

 She was following behind, a torch in her hand. It was unlit, but ready for use. I cried and struggled against my father’s hand, but his grip was too tight. I couldn’t get free. The other townsfolk were starting to gather at the center where the home fire was burning, the hearth fire for Lady Hestia. One of my father’s friends, who greatly enjoyed beating me, was piling a few bundles of sticks and twigs around a large pole just a few feet away from the home fire. My mother’s sister was holding a few lengths of rope as my father jerked me upright and shoved me against the pole.

 They already planned all this.

 I tried to step away as he took the ropes from her, but he grabbed my arm and twisted it at an odd angle, making a loud snapping sound. I screamed as pain rushed through my body. He tied me to the pole, making sure I wasn’t able to escape.

 “Papa, please. I’m your daughter.” I sobbed.

 “My daughter is gone. She died a long time ago.” He snarled, standing back as my mother lit the pitch on the torch, using the flames from the home fire. That was against the rules. You weren’t supposed to use the home fire for anything besides making a new one in a new town and sacrificing food to the gods. My mother looked at her husband lovingly, holding out the torch towards him. I watched in terror as his hand covered hers and they lowered the torch to the pile of sticks at my feet. I struggled to get out of my bonds, but they were tied too tight and soaked with saltwater so they were swollen and unforgiving. The whole village was gathering around as the sticks took the fire, spreading around the base to surround me. I struggled harder against the ropes, but it was no use. The flames licked up the pile, flickering around my feet. I clenched my teeth, determined not to give the satisfaction. If I was going to die, I wasn’t going to die making them happy.

 The base of the pole caught the fire, the heat becoming unbearable now as the flames danced around my feet burning my skin. I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to calm down, to think of something else besides the fire. I focused hard on something else, anything else. I found myself wishing, for the first time ever, to have a vision, something to see other than the faces in the crowd of my family as they watched me die.

 Maybe it was because I was wishing for one to happen, or focusing so hard I made it happen, but I caught the first flicker of a face. It was handsome, tanned and a little narrow, but still square at the same time. Green eyes and dark hair with a neatly trimmed beard. He was muscular and tall. I tried to stay focused on him, trying to see more of his surroundings, more of the vision but the pain of the fire was making everything fade away. The flames were up to my thighs now, melting my skin. I gritted my teeth, but I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I screamed, struggling harder against the ropes, but I was stuck there. The fire started to travel faster up my body. I let out a continuous scream of anguish, wishing I would just die already and get it over with. I wondered how Zeus and Apollo would keep their promise that I would live forever, if my parents had just killed me.

 The flames reached my neck and that was just about all my body could take. I felt myself drifting, only half feeling the pain as I slowly slipped away. The last image I had was of my parents standing in front of me, in the glow of my flames, smiling and kissing each other, so proud of themselves for getting rid of the big scary monster.

 * * *

I gasped loudly as air flooded my lungs. I opened my eyes, staring up at the sky, confused as all Hades as I tried to remember what happened. I slowly sat up, looking around and seeing my village. It was full dark, the middle of the night. I stood up, starting to dust myself off as I turned towards my home, only my hand didn't touch cloth, it touched bare skin.

 I was naked, my clothes were missing. I took a step towards home to get a new chiton, but then my memory came back, and I remembered what my parents did to me. I covered my mouth, feeling like I was going to be sick.

 “No. They wouldn’t do that.” I gasped, falling to my knees. “Mama and Papa, they wouldn’t.” I breathed. I looked around and saw the pyre where I had been tied up when my parents set me on fire. It was burned beyond belief, still smoldering in the night air. The comforting sea breeze blew through the village, lighting some of the faded embers to a slightly brighter glow. Where my body had been was just a pile of ashes now. Nothing resembling a human remains. I covered my face in horror, feeling my hands get wet from tears I didn’t know were falling. My stomach crawled into my throat as I remembered the pain. I retched but nothing came up, my stomach was empty. Lightening flashed and I looked up at the dark sky, noticing the thunder clouds rolling in.

 “What do I do?” I asked quietly. “They still don’t want me.” Thunder rumbled, low and menacing. Lightening flashed brightly across the sky and I got the warning. They were going to be punished, and I shouldn’t be here when it happens. I stood up and forced myself to move. I hurried through the houses, grabbing a chiton that was hanging out to dry. I clumsily tugged it on, fastening it as I ran. Rain started to fall, slow at first and then more heavily as I half ran and half stumbled to the ridge overlooking the village. I managed to make my way up in a reasonable amount of time as the rain became a downright deluge. I paused at the top, turning back to watch the home fire, which was visible from my location, flicker and die out. Also against the rules. The home fire was always supposed to be kept burning. 

 Thunder crashed loudly, angrily and the waves could now be heard crashing against the shore, sending the fishermen’s boats into the docks. I could hear the waves getting larger as they came further inland. I turned my head towards the sea, my eyes widening in horror as a massive tidal wave, taller than the gods themselves, surged up and crashed over the land, covering the entire village.

 Only, it didn’t fade away, like a normal wave. It held over the village, drowning everyone down there, asleep in their homes. They didn't even have time to scream.

 “No!” I cried out, taking a step towards the edge of the ridge. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I had to do something. I couldn't just let them die. Two strong arms caught me around the middle, holding me back. I fought against them, trying to pry them off me; I had to try and save them. This was all my fault. “Let me go! They’re dying!” I cried.

 “So? They killed you first.” The man said. I faltered, looking up at him, seeing Apollo.

 “That doesn’t mean I want them dead!” I protested.

 “It’s not your decision, Aryanna. They made my father angry. This is their punishment.” He said firmly. “I suggest you get over it quickly, because they’re gone. They’re not coming back.” He moved his arms from my waist to my arms. “And honestly, you deserve better.” He said.

 I shook my head. “They’re my family.” I said, my voice breaking as I looked pleadingly at him.

 “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but your family just murdered you.” He said, his mouth twitching up in an apologetic smile. “I mean, my family is nuts, but yours takes it to a whole new level. I mean, they even asked for a special kid. It doesn’t get a whole lot more special than a Seer.” I hung my head, my shoulders shaking as I cried. This was all so overwhelming. I had so many questions I didn't even know where to start. “Oh, um. Hey, it’s okay.” He said awkwardly, patting my back.

 “How is this okay?” I snapped, looking up at him. He jerked his hand back as if I might bite it off.

 “Oh, well,” He paused, thinking for a minute. “Because now you don’t have to be stuck with them forever. Consider yourself lucky, trust me. I’m stuck with my family forever, literally, and we actually sort of like each other. So, you’re much better off.” He said, smiling brightly and the dark receded ever so slightly.

 “No disrespect, Lord Apollo, but you don't know what you're talking about.” I muttered, turning to look out over the flooded village.

 "Maybe, you humans are strange things to us gods." He shrugged.

 His words rang in my ears and I turned back to him, my temper flaring. "What did you do to me?" I demanded and he took a cautious step back.

 "What?"

 "I was just burned alive. What did you do to me?" I didn't care that he was a god and that I might be offending him.

 "Zeus and Hades, they cursed you. You're forbidden from entering the Underworld when you die." He said softly.

 "Why did it hurt so much?" 

 He flinched slightly. "You had to be unmade."

 "Unmade? What does that mean?”

 "You had to be pulled apart layer by layer to be rewritten the way my father wanted." He explained.

 "So, I'll die but not stay dead?" I asked, feeling my horror rise again.

 "I'm afraid so. And I'm sure you'll find there are some other things you'll be able to do and other things you can't." 

 I blew out a sigh, wiping my face dry. "What about this place? The next people who settle here?" I asked.

 "Nobody will. This place will stay barren for eternity." 

 I glanced back as the water started to recede. "Demeter, I assume?"

 "Yes." 

 I grunted. It seems all the gods had a hand in this. "Terrific."

 “Where will you go?” He asked.

 “Crete, most likely. That's where it's all happening these days. Big city, I can blend in.” I said quietly. He nodded thoughtfully.

 “Good luck.”

 “I’m not supposed to be anyone’s Seer anymore, am I?” I asked. 

 He shook his head. “You’re past the age.” He said apologetically. “That’s not to say you won’t have visions anymore. You need to keep them to yourself. Humanity isn’t supposed to know too much. It’s a punishable crime against the gods.” He said seriously. I snorted and moved to walk past him. “I’m serious, Aryanna.” He warned, grabbing my arm as I passed. I faced him and squared my shoulders, deciding then and there that I was done being afraid. I had just survived being murdered by my parents. If I could come back from that, relatively sane-I had nothing else to fear ever again.

 “What else could the gods possibly do to me? I’m already cursed to live forever.” I said. “What are they going to do? Kill me?” I laughed morosely. “You’re not going to make me stop having visions because that would give me what I wanted in the first place.” I said.

 “There are other things we could do.” He said, trying to sound mysterious. I started laughing even harder.

 “Like take my sight? I would just heal. I was just burned alive, Apollo. I really don’t think there’s much you can do to me.” 

 He was quiet for a long time. “We could make you relive that moment over and over until eternity ends.” He said quietly. I froze, staring at him.

 “You would actually do that to me?” I asked.

 “If you need an incentive to keep what you see quiet, then yes. We would.” 

 I bit my lip and nodded. “Good to know. It’s not like I have anyone to tell anything to, anyways.” I said, backing away from him.

 “Aryanna.” He sighed.

 “You should go. Get back to your family. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on my behalf.” I said quietly, turning and walking into the woods.

 “Be careful, Aryanna.” I heard him whisper before there was a pop and he was gone. I stopped, staring straight ahead of me. I didn’t know what to do now. I have never been on my own before, I had never really even been away from home. I felt myself starting to shake from nerves and uncertainty. I took a second to look back at my home, at everything I knew. 

         The last of the water was receding, fading back into the ocean, leaving behind a ruined town, houses washed away. A broken reminder of what happened, to never make the gods angry. This ghost village would remain here, dead and in pain. A reminder of all the bad things, barren for the rest of eternity. It would never sustain life again, the waters would be empty, the soil ashes.

 A cursed land.

 I bit my lip to force back the tears. I was going to be fine. I didn’t need my parents around yelling at me. I could have my own life and be happy. I took a deep, settling breath and turned back towards the road to move on to something better.

 “I can do this.” I said to myself, taking the first step towards freedom and towards my new life.

Tag List:

@everythingisoverrated​ @thiccbinch​ @wkemeup​ @imanuglywombat​ @thewolfsenate

[unfolded73]

Another New York City Serenade (6/7)

Summary: With the visitors from Arendelle gone and Gold banished, Emma and Killian’s relationship continues to deepen, especially when an excuse for a road trip away from Storybrooke falls into their laps. (A S4 hiatus story).

Beta: @j-philly-b

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4541 this chapter

Warning for hungover Emma. And angst. :)

(tagging @kmomof4 @this-too-too-sullied-flesh @cherrywolf713 @stardusted-nymph upon request)

CHAPTER 1 |  CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Emma woke up with a pounding headache. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the empty glass on her bedside table, and a fractured memory popped into her head of Killian bringing her water and Advil before she passed out. Which reminded her of the way he’d gently cleaned her up after… she winced. After the sex she’d initiated. After drinking way too much and dragging him out dancing.

She rolled over to see the vast expanse of an empty bed.

Struggling to her feet, she stumbled to the bathroom. It too was empty. Killian was gone.

Emma’s stomach roiled and she dropped to the floor, retching into the toilet. The thin hotel bath mat cushioned her knees a little, but she shivered and couldn’t help thinking what a sight she must be, on the floor wearing a bra and nothing else with her head pressed against the toilet seat. The heaving of her stomach made her head hurt worse, which made her stomach rebel even more.

After a few minutes she was able to drag herself up from the floor. She turned on the shower as hot as could stand it. With a heavy sigh she unhooked her bra and stepped under the spray, letting the water run down her hair.

Killian was no idiot; he could read her like an open book, he’d said so many times. He had probably seen right through her last night. He knew she’d been avoiding talking about anything meaningful since their conversation in Battery Park. For the first time, she began to genuinely worry that she'd pushed him too far. He was a patient man, but everyone had their limits. How long before he got fed up with her walls and gave up on her?

Emma did her best to wash herself, her hands feeling numb and heavy, her head still throbbing. If only the memories of past hangovers weren't always conveniently absent during a drinking binge.

Turning off the water, she dried off and wrapped the towel around her hair before exiting the bathroom.

Killian sat in the room’s lone desk chair, waiting for her.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

She exhaled with relief, her shoulders relaxing. “Shitty,” she said as she opened a drawer and pulled out some clothes.  

“I thought you might. I'm sorry, Swan, I should have said something last night before you got so inebriated.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she pulled her underwear on. “You're not my minder, Killian.”

“I know that.” He dropped his eyes. “In any case, I got you some breakfast.”

“Ugh, I don't think I can eat.”

“Try. You'll feel better if you get something into your stomach.” Once she’d finished dressing, he guided her to sit down and put a wrapped breakfast sandwich in her lap. “I also got you a tea; I thought coffee might be a bit too much.”

“Thanks. That's very sweet.” She unwrapped the sandwich and forced herself to take a bite.

He watched her eat for awhile in silence. “I'm sorry about last night,” Killian finally said, his expression pained. “I shouldn't have… I fear I took advantage of you.”

“Are you talking about the sex?” Dismissing him with a wave her hand, she added, “From what I remember, it was very hot and I was very into it. And we’re going to revisit that thing you did with your hook when I’m sober.” She took a sip of tea and felt her headache recede a fraction. “It's me that needs to apologize.”

“Why?”

“Because I… “ She stopped, and Killian gave her a tiny nod of encouragement. “Because I drank so much,” she responded, chickening out on the real reason for the apology. Because I’m a closed off, broken excuse for a human being who can’t just admit how important you are to me, she thought.

He gave her a tight smile and a pat on the knee. “I can return to the library on my own if you aren’t feeling up to it.”

“No, I’ll be fine, just give me a few more minutes.”

~*~

The third floor archive room was again empty save for a single librarian. This time it was a woman with short, red hair, an impressive array of piercings, and a tattoo on her chest only mostly concealed by her sweater. She looked even less like a librarian than the first one had, and Emma prepared herself for disappointment.

“Hi, we’re looking for Lynne?” she asked.

“That’s me, what can I do for you?”

Killian again brandished his book. “We spoke to the librarian who was here yesterday about this crystal. She had no record of it in that thing,” he said, gesturing to the computer, “but told us that you might have more information.”

Lynne stared at the engraving in the book. “Yeah, Karen’s only been here for about six months, so she doesn’t know how to access our old database,” she said. “Not that I need it, because I actually remember this item, but I’ll show you.” After several seconds of rapid typing, she turned the monitor enough so that they could see the screen. “See that?” she said, pointing to a text entry. “Stolen over a year ago. We reported it to the police and everything, but it wasn’t exactly their top priority to track down a rock with mythical origins, no matter how old and priceless it is.”

“You said you remember it,” Emma probed. “You were here when it was stolen?”

“I was working the day this guy with a cane came in and asked to see it. I knew there was something about him that wasn’t quite right, but I did my job, I sat him down right over there with the artifact and some documentation we had to accompany it. After about ten minutes, he thanked me and left, and I put everything away promptly, exactly like we’re supposed to. I know I put that crystal back and locked the cabinet. But a few days later, something about the whole thing was bugging me, so I went to check that I hadn’t misfiled it. The crystal was gone.”

“Maybe because you misfiled it?” Emma said.

“I tore the whole place apart. It was just gone. Somehow, that guy stole it.”

“The man with the cane?” Killian said, his jaw clenched and spasming. His mind had clearly gone exactly where Emma’s had.

“There was no record of anyone else in the last thirty years coming to look at that crystal. Then three days after someone does, it disappears? I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“No, nor I,” Killian said darkly.

“I gave his description to the police, but nothing ever came of it. Sorry.”

Killian turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. “Thanks for your help,” Emma said to librarian, giving her a small smile before she dashed after him.

“Killian, wait!” she called, which made him spin around to face her. His fist was clenched at his side.

“Bloody Crocodile,” he muttered.

“Yeah, it does sound a lot like Gold, and the date matches when I brought him to New York to track down Neal. He must’ve stolen it while I was occupied with the whole Henry meeting his father situation.” She put a hand on Killian’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “But maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it’s in his shop. You have to admit, it would be pretty funny if we came all this way and the damn thing was in Storybrooke the whole time.” With a smile, she added, “We might even get accused of making up an excuse to go on a romantic trip together.”

He returned her smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We should call Belle and let her know. She can look for it.”

“Let’s go outside and call her from the park,” Emma suggested, taking his arm and steering him to the stairwell.

Belle answered her phone after the first ring. “Emma! How’s New York?”

“Hi, Belle. New York’s fine.”

“Did you find the crystal?”

“Not exactly. It was here, but it looks like…” She paused, grimacing. The last thing she wanted to do was give Belle more reason to be upset, but there was no way around it. “It looks like Gold may have stolen it last year when I brought him to New York to track down Neal. We were hoping maybe he stashed it in his shop. Can you look?”

Her voice was softer, more subdued when she answered. “Yeah, I’ll go over there right away.”

“Thanks. Call us when you find something. I guess either way, we’ll be heading back tomorrow,” she said, looking at Killian. “There’s not much more we can do here.”

“I’m sorry you made the trip for nothing. Did you at least get a chance to have some fun together?” Belle asked.

“Yeah, we’ve had some time for fun.”

The two of them said their goodbyes and Emma ended the call. “She’ll call if she finds something.”

“She won’t,” Killian said. “It’s a crystal to undo magical traps. If anything, he would have destroyed it.”

“Maybe not. Maybe he would have saved it in case he got caught in a magical trap himself.”

“If that were the case, he’d carry it with him. And we have no idea where he is; he could be here in New York City right now and we’d never know it.”

Emma shuddered at that idea, glancing around at the buildings that in that moment seemed to close in around them.

“And even if we found him and he had the crystal, why would he help us? He despises fairies almost as much as he despises me.” They were standing near a park bench, and Killian kicked it violently. Being bolted to the ground, the park bench was unfazed by his attack.

“Did that help?”

“Yes.”

“Killian—”

“Everything I do, everywhere I go, Rumplestiltskin is there to plague me. It’s not enough that he destroyed Milah and Bae and countless others, or that he took my hand. Even banished from our lives, he still finds a way to thwart me at every turn.” There was murder in his eyes, and Emma unconsciously took a step backward.

“If the crystal isn’t an option, then we’ll find another way.”

He didn’t seem to even hear her, pacing in front of her like a chained attack dog. “I don’t know what I was playing at, thinking I could be the hero and save the day. Set my vengeance aside, and right past wrongs; be a good man, a pillar of the community,” he spat. “As if I’m someone who deserves happiness and a warm fire and a… a big, soft bed like the one in that bloody hotel room.”

“You’re angry about the bed?”

“I'm angry that I let myself believe I deserve that kind of comfort after the kind of man I’ve been.”

“But you’ve changed.”

He laughed a sharp, bitter laugh. “You probably imagine that I was a fine, upstanding citizen until grief turned me into a vengeful pirate.” Emma glanced at the people passing near them in the park, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention. Most of them had earbuds plugged into their ears, completely oblivious to the fact that Captain Hook was having a meltdown right here in the middle of Manhattan. “What you don’t understand is that I was always weak,” he continued, his eyes flashing with pain and fury. “I was a drunk and a gambler long before I was anything that anyone could admire. The only thing that kept me on the straight and narrow was fear of disappointing Liam, and as soon as he died…”

She reached out and touched the arm of his jacket, trying to calm him. “I know, I get that, but what I see is the man you are now—”

“Exactly, which is why you’re pulling away from me.”

She dropped her hand. “I’m not pulling away from you—”

“Aren’t you, Emma?” He smiled a dark little smile. “And honestly I think if I were truly a good man, I would let you go. You’d be better off without me.”

“You’ve certainly made up your mind about a lot of things without considering what I want.” She was suddenly livid.

Killian looked away, the muscle in his jaw working furiously.

“Everyone in my life has left me. Everyone. And you stand there and talk about my fears like they’re about you?” Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, and she stared hard at a food truck in her field of vision, watching the lighted sign flash without really registering what she was looking at. She was suddenly exhausted. “My headache is coming back. I’m going back to the hotel and lie down.”

“Perhaps I will go for a walk. Clear my head.” She glanced at him briefly, at the firm set of his shoulders. The relief that he wasn’t offering to go back to the hotel with her made her stomach twist with guilt.

“Do you have the second room key?”

“Aye.”

“And you have your card for the subway?”

“I do.”

“Don’t forget, the little arrow needs to be pointing toward the swipey thing,” she said, gesturing as if she was swiping a card through the turnstile reader.

“You don’t need to mother me, Swan, I can get along fine without you.”

Anger flashed in her veins again. “Fine. I’ll see you later.” Before she could say something she would regret, she turned on her heel and stalked across the park, back towards the crush of Times Square.

After a train ride that went by in a blur of unintelligible announcements and disinterested passengers jostling with her for space, Emma emerged from the subway under the shadow of construction scaffolding. The sunshine that lit up Rector Street didn’t reach her under the canopy of steel as she trudged to the hotel. It was early afternoon, and people were streaming in and out of a falafel shop as she passed. The oily smell made her stomach roll over.

She glanced at faces in the sea of humanity as she passed, the stockbrokers from nearby Wall Street who were thinking about their next conference call and the teen girls who were looking around excitedly as their harried parents wearing fanny packs and too-white sneakers trailed a few steps behind. None of them had any idea what existed under the surface of this world, the magic and mystery that Emma had been plunged into without warning on her twenty-eighth birthday. Magic that had led her to Killian. She didn't know if she believed in destiny, but sometimes, looking at him, he felt a little bit like destiny. And he felt a lot like home.

The hotel room was freshly cleaned and deathly silent when she let herself in. Pulling off her boots, she lay down on top of the blankets, shivering with tiredness and a chill that she couldn’t explain. Lacking the energy to get undressed or get under the covers, she reached over and pulled the comforter around herself, curling up in the fetal position and squeezing her eyes shut. Mercifully, she fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

~*~

The room was dim when Killian entered, the early sunset of winter leaving behind a damp chill that had settled into his bones as he’d walked. Killian rubbed his hands together and blew on them, his gaze settling on the white lump with blonde hair that was curled up on the bed. His heart squeezed with a mixture of affection and fear.

Seemingly sensing his presence, Emma sat up, partially untangling herself from the duvet and clicking on the bedside lamp. “You’re back,” she said softly.

“Is that all right?” After his behavior, he figured he deserved to be thrown out of the room.

Emma patted the bed next to her, an invitation for him to join her. With careful steps, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, his feet firmly planted on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Emma.” He closed his eyes, afraid to meet hers.

“I’m sorry too.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, love, it was—”

“You were right, I’ve been… pushing you away a little bit. Or at least I’ve been deflecting, because…” She took a breath and let it out. He watched her face as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. Reaching over, Killian took her warm hand in his own, holding it loosely. “It’s a lot, the way I feel about you, and it scares me. I swore I’d never put myself in the position to get my heart broken again, and… I have.”

“You must know I’d rather die than ever break your heart.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, well don’t die, that would be stupid.”

“I just mean—”

“I know.” She squeezed his hand. “God, you’re freezing.” Her other hand reached over and touched his wind-chapped cheek. “How long were you outside?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He’d walked, block after block, trying to see his way clear to being able to leave Emma for her own good. She was goodness and light magic, she was the Savior, and he was, as Peter Pan had once said, a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem. But after turning the agonizing idea over in his mind, he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that he would ever voluntarily be parted from Emma Swan. He loved her too much. She’d burrowed deep into his heart and taken up residence there, and if he were a praying man, he would pray for her to stay there forever.

“Let’s warm you up,” Emma said, unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them off.

Dragged from his thoughts, Killian frowned. “What are you doing?”

“No innuendo? Who are you and what have you done with Killian Jones?” she said with a small smile. “I wasn’t proposing sex, by the way. I just figured we could snuggle up under the covers and get you warm. Okay?” He watched, mesmerized, as she reached under her shirt and unhooked her bra, and then through some kind of feminine witchcraft pulled it off and tossed it aside while her shirt stayed on. “Come on, take your pants off.” Emma added as she got under the covers properly and attempted to straighten out the mess she’d made of the duvet.

In a daze, Killian followed her direction, stripping down to his shirt and underwear before joining her in bed. Emma curled into him immediately, wrapping her arms around him and tangling their legs together. She felt so good and so warm and he sighed, feeling the tension he’d been carrying for hours finally draining away. They held each other in silence for several long minutes.

“I’m sorry that I let my anger at Rumplestiltskin get the better of me,” he finally murmured. “It brought all of my fears and doubts about myself to the fore, but I should never have burdened you with any of that.”

“Killian, that’s part of being in a relationship. Telling me when you have fears and doubts. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you have to hide the way you feel.” She shifted, kissing his cheek, and the sweetness of it made him close his eyes against tears that sprang up.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “we’ve probably apologized enough for one day.”

Emma laughed, hugging him tighter before pulling away and looking him in the eye. “Storytime. Dumbest thing you’ve ever said to someone you had feelings for.”

He met her smile with one of his own. “That’s easy, but it’s a story you already know. It was the time I locked a certain Savior in a prison cell and told her I was done with her.”

“That doesn’t count, you didn’t have feelings for me then,” she countered.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Swan. I certainly did. I was drawn to you from the first moment I saw you.” He cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb gently stroking her face. “What would be your answer to the question?”

She blushed, biting her lip. “One time thing. Definitely the dumbest thing I’ve ever said was when I told you kissing was a one time thing.”

The memory of that kiss flashed in his mind as he stared at Emma’s lips, which drew him in like a magnet. Their kiss was slow and gentle, her bottom lip between his, and he nipped at her again and again, pulling back each time only to return for more. He felt the kindling of desire but he didn’t allow it to push him into accelerating things. Right now he just wanted to focus on kissing her, on the sweetness of her mouth and the softness of her lips. When she tilted her head and opened her mouth wider, they still kept things languid and easy, neither of them in any rush to do more, despite the way their bodies were pressed together.

As the kiss naturally slowed to a stop, he heard the distinct sound of Emma’s stomach growling and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Sorry, I didn’t eat much today.”

“Well, we should probably go do something about that. What do you fancy?”

“I fancy not having to put my bra back on. Let’s order room service.” She sprang out of the bed and retrieved a folder from the desk before reclaiming her spot under the covers.

After she’d used the room telephone to tell someone what food to bring them, Emma reached for the television remote to turn the device on. He’d hardly been aware there was a television in the room, so focused had he been on the bed-related activities, but now the black rectangle sprang to life.

“I could use a little mindless TV, is that okay?” She was pressing a button, making the picture change every couple of seconds.

“It’s fine.” He didn’t care for TV, didn’t have the cultural language to understand most of it, but he was so happy with how open she was being, he wouldn’t have minded if a traveling circus came into the room to perform. Even better when she curled up against him, her head on his chest, to watch whatever program she’d settled on. It seemed to be a drama about people searching for the killer of a woman who had been ritually raped and dumped out of an apartment window to sprawl, lifeless, on a car below. The police detectives bantered in dry witticisms over the dead body, and Killian silently questioned Emma’s characterization of this program as “mindless.”

The evening passed easily as they ate their delivered dinner cross-legged on the bed, sharing french fries and good-natured arguments over the program he learned was called Law and Order. Once Emma had put the room service tray outside the door and they had curled up under the covers again, Killian felt himself starting to get sleepy, the emotionally exhausting day catching up with him. He sank down further into the soft mattress, his hand toying idly with the ends of Emma’s hair as they lay entwined. When the second episode of the murder show ended, Emma yawned and turned the television off with the remote device.

“Sleepy?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she said, but her fingernail scratching through his chest hair above where his shirt was buttoned hinted that sleep might not have been foremost on her mind. “We have to go home tomorrow.”

“Aye.”

“So it’s our last night to take advantage of being completely alone.”

He still wanted her, had wanted her all evening in a patient, unhurried way. “I would like nothing better, but no one’s keeping score, and you need your rest.”

“I’m not that tired.” She unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt, parting the fabric to kiss his chest. Then she looked up, hesitant. “Is this okay?”

“Love, if I ever turn down the pleasures of your body, you can assume someone has stolen my heart again.”

Emma grinned. “So really, me hitting on you could be considered necessary to your safety, is what you’re saying.”

“It sounds only prudent.” Cupping her face with his hand, he pulled her close to kiss her. Her mouth was warm, her tongue tangling with his as the kiss overtook them. They could barely stop kissing long enough to shed the few clothes they were wearing, but eventually they managed it. He let his hand travel over her body as Emma resettled against him, cupping the curve of her breast and pinching her nipple just hard enough to make her gasp with pleasure before raking his fingers down over her hip, gripping her ass and pulling her closer still. He took a moment to appreciate how wonderful it felt, her naked body against his, everything warm and soft and filled with anticipation. Gods, he would do anything to just live in this moment forever, loving this woman with his body and soul.

He felt her hand trailing down his stomach, a light, teasing touch until she gripped his cock in her fist, stroking up and down slowly and making him moan against her mouth. He moved to reciprocate her attentions, slipping his hand between her legs to find her already so swollen and wet, and he couldn’t help the bloom of pride that this miraculous woman had so much desire for him.

He was so wrapped up in the way she felt, in the sound of her voice when he touched her just so, that he was caught by surprise when she pushed him over onto his back and straddled him. She wasted no time taking his erection in hand and guiding him inside, rocking her hips to work herself down onto him until he was buried deep. She was a goddess, an angel, her blonde hair cascading down.  The movement of her breasts mesmerized him as she undulated her hips, taking what she needed. His limbs felt heavy and boneless as he watched her, and he could do little more than stroke the top of her thigh with his hand, pleasure sparking up his spine from where they were joined. Then Emma took hold of his both of his wrists, pressing them down onto the mattress on either side of his head and leaning forward, changing the angle and grinding harder with her hips. Her eyes were wide open, looking into his. Killian looked back, trying to communicate everything he was feeling for her without giving it voice. She seemed to see it, seemed to accept it, her eyes finally slipping closed only when the ecstasy overcame her. With a strangled moan she came, allowing him to finally let go and follow her, pulsing inside her, his vision going white as the sensations overwhelmed him.

The hotel bed was large, but that night they fell asleep cuddled close together in the center of it, Emma’s head on his chest and their legs entwined. Killian’s sleep was sound, and when he dreamed it was of the rocking of his ship on the sea, his love cradled in his arms.

CHAPTER 7