Twenty Gold Coins

Emma, a princess on the run, steals twenty gold coins in an attempt to escape the Enchanted Forest. When she's caught, she's forced to make a deal with a charming pirate.

Yet another bar-wench Emma/pirate Hook smutty piece-of-smut. Multi-Chapter.

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"What was I thinking…what's wrong with me?" Emma muttered as a pair of lumbering sailors dragged her through the darkened streets. She bowed her head, not wanting any of the villagers to see the tears streaming down her muddied face.

She'd been caught. Finally been caught. After everything she went through to escape Regina and her black knights; after she'd been forced to leave her parents, flee the kingdom, live like a hunted animal in the forest—it was all for nothing. She was going to die at the hands of a few drunken pirates.

And all for twenty gold coins.

Her tattered dress fluttered around her ankles, catching the straw and soot piled high along the village lanes. The smell of the sea roused her and she found herself staring at a forest of masts and spars. Enormous white sails shook with the wind, flapping wildly, beating in time with her own heart.

They were hauling her towards The Black Swan, a seedy tavern huddled on the edge of the docks. It was a tumbledown inn that sat low against the murky water, veiled by the fog that crept over the harbor.

The odor of sawdust, ale and urine assaulted her senses as she was hauled through the creaking doors. After weeks of hiding in the forest, she almost fainted at the overwhelming smell of men. She could feel the eyes of the drunks and whores on her, grinning their toothless grins, taking in the sad sight of someone about to meet an untimely fate (one worse than even their own).

She felt some stairs beneath her and before she could get her footing she was tossed inside one of the cramped private rooms. The door slammed shut as she fell with a sickening thud. Scrambling to her feet, she clawed at the latch. But it was no use. No matter how much she scratched and pounded, the door wouldn't budge.

"Easy there lass. It's locked. There's no point in bruising those pretty hands of yours." The deep voice with an Irish brogue reverberated through her, and she shivered despite herself. She wasn't alone in the room. Of course she wasn't.

Blinking back hot tears, Emma turned to face her captor. She peered into the darkness, trying to distinguish shape from shadow. A few dying flames burned low in the fireplace, casting a faint amber light across the floorboards. At the far end of the room she could just make out the dark outline of a man standing against a moonlit window.

"So you're the sorry excuse for a thief who made off with my gold?" She heard him tsk-tsk. "Snatching the bag from my purser and tearing off into the forest before anyone knew what was happening… You almost got away. Almost. But not quite."

Almost got away but not quite...She wondered if that's what they'd put on her tombstone.

"And I have to say, the disguise was a nice touch. You were wearing a priest's cloak, weren't you? A long black one? One that covered up every lovely inch of you."

She nodded, wishing she had the cloak now. It was somewhere in the forest, caught in a mass of holly bushes she dove through to escape his men. She brushed the tangled blonde curls out of her face and pulled up the sleeves of the torn blouse that was hanging low off her shoulders. The swell of her breasts pressed against the filthy bodice with every breath. During her weeks of hiding her clothes had become rags, revealing more than they concealed. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't seem to cover herself.

A pair of blue eyes shimmered against the starlight and gooseflesh crawled over her skin. She could feel his eyes raking over her, lavishing his gaze on every exposed curve.

"Aye. The cloak was a wise decision. A lass who looks like you would've never escaped anyone's attention. But I'm glad to see you've cast it off. Now I can get a good look at you."

She crossed her arms over herself and met his gaze with more courage than she felt.

"Who are you?" he asked, still standing in the darkest part of the shadows.

"No one."

"Well that's just unfortunate for you, isn't it? Can't be easy being a no one." She saw a white glint and realized he was smiling. "Even a whore's got to have a name."

She leveled an imperious gaze at him. The pale green of her eyes met his dark blue depths. "I'm not a whore."

"No? Well then you're a thief. And a lousy one at that. Least whoring's an honest day's work."

"You're a pirate. What would you know about honest work?"

She heard him chuckle and the sound made her fists clench. "A bit brazen aren't you? Caught stealing my gold and yet you call me a thief… That makes you either foolish or brave. Haven't decided for myself yet."

"Neither have I," she muttered miserably.

"We'll have to see about that. Because now, you have a choice." He gestured to the bed behind her. "Sit."

"I don't want to sit."

"It wasn't a question Lovely. Sit. Now."

She crossed her arms over her chest and sat rigidly on the edge of the mattress, leaning forward so she could jump to her feet at a moment's notice. The small bed and a shabby desk were the sole furniture in the room. There were no decorations, no vases or books. Nothing she could use as a weapon or a means of escape.

He sauntered towards her, stepping into the faint amber light of the fireplace. She could make out his tall, well-built figure against the shadows, his long black coat making it more difficult than it need be. She saw broad shoulders and strong arms, jewels hanging from his neck and glistening from every ring on his fingers. The glow of the firelight didn't reach his face though; that was still veiled in darkness.

"It's simple really. You stole my gold. I want it back."

"I don't have it," she answered evenly. "It fell in the river when your men grabbed me."

"Did it? Ah, that pesky river." He obviously didn't believe her.

"You can ask them. They saw it happen."

"But it'd be easy, wouldn't it? To tuck the gold somewhere safe, then toss a bag of rocks into the water. So when you got the chance you could go back and claim your prize. That'd be clever of you, and I have a feeling you're cleverer than you look."

"I wish I were."

"Well if you can't repay me, I can hand you over to the local sheriff. Thieves usually have a price on their heads. I'm sure to get some of my money back that way."

"NO! You can't do that!" Emma thought about Nottingham, his love for the Evil Queen, how eager he'd be to throw her at Regina's feet, and how much he'd relish the rewards she'd lavish on him. And he'd seen her once, years ago. He might be able to recognize her…

"I can do that, and I may. I haven't decided yet. It'd be much easier if you'd just return what's mine."

"I lost it. It fell in the river," she repeated through gritted teeth.

"Ah, of course it did."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Oh I think you are. But what bothers me more is that I still don't have my gold. Now what do you propose we do about that?"

"I don't…I don't know."

"Well let's put our heads together, shall we? Hmmmm. What to do…what to do…" He eased forward, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. Emma stared as the shadows receded and the firelight finally revealed him. He was younger than she expected—only a few years older than her (26 or 27 maybe). And handsome. Strikingly handsome. With tanned chiseled features, sea-colored eyes, and dark locks of hair curling around the collar of his long leather coat.

"Not polite to stare Lovely," he quipped, clearly enjoying her discomfort as she lowered her gaze to the floor.

"Not polite to imprison a girl either," she muttered.

"Then I suppose we both left our manners at the door." He took out a flask and eased it back, taking a long swig. "You're a bit of a brat, aren't you?" He wiped his mouth and offered the flask to her; some kind of pirate etiquette, she supposed.

Emma took it from him, ignoring the feel of his calloused fingers as he lightly brushed her hand. She wouldn't normally have accepted a drink from someone like him but her throat was cracked and painfully dry from sprinting away from his crew. She tipped it back and swallowed, trying not to react to the burning sensation setting fire to her throat.

Coughing and sputtering, she gasped for air. "What is that?"

"Rum. And a damned fine waste of it." He gestured at the amber line of liquid dripping down her front and into the valley of her breasts. She wiped the droplets away, her cheeks flaming red as he ran his tongue along his front teeth, clearly picturing replacing her fingers with his own…

"So it appears we're at an impasse. You owe me twenty gold pieces. And you say you can't pay. Again, what shall we do about it?"

"I don't know. I could…could…"

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish, but she stammered until she fell silent. She had no idea what to do. After Regina assumed power, her parents had gone into hiding. Emma herself was abandoned by her convoy weeks ago when the black knights attacked. She had no friends in this strange kingdom. She was alone. Penniless. And in debt to a pirate. She couldn't imagine a worse fate…

...until he knelt in front of her. She eyed the narrowing distance between them and could suddenly picture that worse fate. His knee brushed against hers and out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of silver.

A hook. His left hand was a hook.

"Killian Jones," she whispered, her throat going dry. "You're Killian Jones."

"Aye lass. So you've heard of me." His hook hovered over the swell of her breasts. The metal brushed against her skin, sweeping a stray blonde curl behind her shoulder. She shivered at the touch. She couldn't help it. It was so cold, colder than the river water, colder than the freezing rain that had drenched her for days.

"Why would a whore…" he paused when she shot him a spiteful look "…Sorry, thief, want with twenty gold coins anyhow? You don't strike me as the greedy type."

"I need to secure a passage out of the realm."

"Must be very important business that takes you so far away. And to risk getting caught stealing in a place like The Black Swan... Men who drink here don't take thieving lightly." He held her eyes over his hook. "I should know, I'm one of them."

"I have to leave…I have to…" she fell silent. There was no possible way she could explain it to him. If he found out who she was or what she was running from, he would just turn her in and take the reward for himself.

"Oh I see. On the run are you?"

She nodded.

"No one to turn to? Friendless and utterly alone?"

She nodded again.

"My poor lovely lass." The metal edge brushed against her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to bite back the fear lashing through her.

"But you're a pretty girl. Maybe even damned pretty underneath all that dirt. There are other ways to raise the money. More pleasant ways. Much more pleasant," he added with an inviting grin.

She shot him a furious look.

"Oh that's right. You're not a whore. Wouldn't take money for sating a man's pleasure, would you?"

"No."

"…You'd just take his money," he finished for her.

"I didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice. And here's yours. You're going to pay me back what's mine. One way or the other. Now give me back my gold." He held out his hand, as if she could just toss the bag to him.

"I can't."

"Then shall I take you to the sheriff?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she shook her head.

"All right. So what are you prepared to do?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't. Even if he threatened to slit her throat right then and there, she could never bring herself to say the words. But she knew what he wanted, knew what he expected, knew what he was going to do to her...

He sighed. "You're making this harder than it has to be."

"I'm not trying to!" She couldn't keep the tears back anymore. They trickled down her cheeks, following the rum droplets that had stained her skin. She turned her head and looked away as her trembling fingers began to unlace the frayed knots holding her bodice together. She closed her eyes, expecting him bat her hands away and rip it from her body, to take what was owed to him from her own flesh.

It took a moment but his hand soon joined hers, which were shaking so hard that they were getting hopelessly tangled in the dingy strings. She waited to feel the material being torn from her...

...but instead he began lacing it back together, deftly fastening the ties she couldn't navigate with two hands.

"There there. You can stop crying now." His voice was low, but softer than before. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Though I'd dearly like to take you over my knee for being the imperious little brat you are."

She let out a sigh, not realizing she'd been holding her breath. A sob began to shake through her and she covered her mouth to muffle the sound.

He finished tying up the laces and eased back. "As you say, you're no whore. I thought perhaps all this harried innocence was an act, but I can see I was wrong. Besides, I don't take unwilling women to bed." He shrugged. "And it's a pity really. I was hoping you'd at least try to seduce me. A clever thief would. She'd have given me a night I wouldn't forget and then we could both leave with a smile. Not you though. Have to make things difficult, don't you?"

Still shaking with sobs, Emma didn't answer. She could only see the tears welling in her eyes and the shadow of his hook against the firelight.

"But the fact of the matter is, you owe me Lovely. You lost my gold and I'm not about to let you walk out of here scot-free." He took a blonde strand and studied it in his hand. "Even if you do have the look of an angel about you."

"What do you want?" She asked in a hollow voice, wiping the tears from her eyes and watching the pirate uncertainly.

"Since you refuse to seduce me…and you are refusing, aren't you? You've definitely decided on that? Because I'm more than willing to reconsider the idea if you are…" He winked and smiled. The way he said it was friendly, almost like he was joking with her.

She shook her head slowly. "I don't think I'll be seducing you anytime soon."

He wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "I thought as much. But what do you say we make a deal. How about a kiss in lieu of …other payments."

"A kiss?" She echoed in a hollow voice. She stared at him, for the first time realizing how close they were. His lips were inches away from her own and she could feel his breath warming her throat. His blue eyes seemed softer now, losing their cold disdain as they traced the features of her face.

"Aye. It's not exactly improper. Ladies occasionally kiss the knights they favor, do they not?"

She nodded, licking her lips nervously. "Just one kiss?"

"If life were as fair as you Lovely, then perhaps. But no. Twenty. Twenty kisses for twenty gold coins."

"Twenty kisses," she repeated. She found herself staring at his mouth, his heavy-lidded eyes, the strong jaw and dangerous smile. He was handsome, that was certain. And there would be no shame in a few harmless kisses. Then she could be on her way. Far away from this horrible place, away from Regina and the dangers of the forest…

"All right," she nodded, wiping the remaining tears from her face. "Twenty kisses."

"Deal." He held out his hand and she shook it gently.

"Deal."

He gave a slight bow. "Shall we begin?"

"Now?" she asked, startled.

"Aye love. Now," he whispered, closing the distance between them.

Her breath caught in her throat as his fingertips lightly stroked her chin. His lips met hers, brushing softly against them. Her eyes opened wide at the sudden contact, their emerald sheen reflecting the shadowy light of the room. He cupped her face, giving her a tender kiss that was gentle, almost painful in its restraint. As she exhaled, her mouth parted and his tongue dipped lightly against her own. The contact lasted only a moment, but it sent a shivering trill through her. She felt him pull away, and a wave of relief washed over her as he put some much needed distance between them.

He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Her mouth was now rubbed red as her breath hitched in her chest. An echo of desire reverberated deep inside her and a dark and hidden ache suddenly flared. It was a feeling that was warm and wanting and completely foreign.

She felt his hook against her thigh, toying with the thin material of her ragged skirt. The contact was no longer cold. Instead it suddenly seemed to burn the sensitive skin there.

His mouth grazed her ear as he leaned in and whispered: "And so my Lovely…that's one."

"That's one," she repeated. Her breath quickened and she had a sudden sensation of drowning, because she was certainly in over her head.