Title: Temptation

Summary: Emma meets Jack, a mysterious man that many warn her about, but she feels this unbridled attraction to him and she can't just stay away… No matter what her friends say.

Rated: M
Setting: S1
Pairing: CS
Dis: I don't own OUAT

.

.

.

"Who is that?"

Emma nodded toward a man standing at the counter in Granny's. He had jet-black hair, scruff she had to admit looked good on him, and had an aura of danger around him. He wore dark jeans, black boots, and a matching black leather jacket that hugged his form in a positive manner. Emma's eyes traveled up his chest, over his chin, and finally her eyes met his and she felt a spark of… Something… Travel down her spine and the feeling was so intense she had to look away. Henry twisted around to get a look at the man, and then turned back in the booth to face Emma.

"That's Jack. At first I thought he was supposed to be the Giant Slayer, but that's too easy," said Henry. "Also, the Jack who killed all the giants was a girl."

"Uh huh," said Emma, looking up from her hot cocoa to follow the dark, mysterious stranger with her eyes as he exited the diner. He paused at the door and looked over his shoulder to stare at her. It was so intense that she once again had to look away, and sighed in relief when he finally left. "Right. Your stories."

"They aren't stories, Emma," said Henry, frustration evident in his tone. "It's your life!"

"Right, sorry," said Emma, picking up her fork as Ruby brought her order of pancakes and Henry's of eggs and bacon. "So his name is Jack. Know anything else?"

"Not really," said Henry with a shrug. "He has a house up on the hill by the docks. Doesn't really mingle with the people much unless he has to. Kind of a loner."

"Right." Emma worked on cutting her pancake with her fork. "So, what's on the agenda today, Kid?"

"Hmm…" Henry tapped his chin then perked up. "Oh! I know! Let's find out who Jack is!"

"What?" asked Emma, just about missing her mouth with her fork. "Henry…"

"No, no… Maybe there's a reason that you noticed him? Operation Cobra is back in action with finding out just who he is! I gotta go to school, but maybe we can meet at the castle after?"

"Yeah, sure," said Emma as Henry finished his eggs, grabbed his last piece of bacon, then slid out of the booth to run out the door. Moments later, Ruby came with her check and Emma motioned for her to wait. "What do you know about that guy that was just here? Henry said his name was Jack?"

"You mean tall, dark, and mysterious?" asked Ruby, practically drooling. "Other than him turning down every female in town that sniffs him out, not much. Keeps to himself, lives down by the docks, and causes some trouble with the law at times when he ventures down to the Rabbit Hole."

"Bad news?" asked Emma.

"Some think so," said Ruby, nodding toward her grandmother. "Me? I respect his need for privacy, as well as his assets… If you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," said Emma, tossing down cash for her and Henry's meal. "Anything else?"

"Look, ask me about anyone in town and I usually can help you out but him? Closed book, my friend… Why the sudden curiosity?"

"Just never saw him till today," said Emma, sliding out of the booth, shrugging on her red, leather coat while doing so. "Really no reason."

"Okay…" Ruby didn't quite look like she believed Emma. "Emma, seriously though, if you're going to try and go after Jack Murphy… Be prepared to get burned."

"Thanks," said Emma. "I'll keep that under advisement."

Emma made it down to the station and got to work. Things with Graham were still tense. After catching him in his lie she really didn't feel the need to talk to him. Though he didn't seem to get the hint, because he kept finding reasons to come to her desk: like needing a pencil, needing help finding a misplaced folder, and finally asking if she wanted to go to lunch. She said no to the lunch and when he left she made up her mind and went to the records room. She found a file on Jack Murphy and read through it.

One count of drunken disorderly, two of assault, and the last was a trespassing charge but upon reading the reports thoroughly she was finding a pattern. The drunken disorderly charges were congruent with the assault charges. According to Graham's notes, he wasn't the one to start the fights, just end them, hence why he wasn't in a cell or doing community service. The last one Jack was apparently protecting a waitress that had been being groped by patrons in the Rabbit Hole and when the patrons had a problem with him they had attacked and ended up on the ground.

"He took down five men on his own," murmured Emma. "Dangerous… Knows how to fight. Man… If Henry was right about the whole story thing I'd almost call this guy a hero… No Prince Charming more… Oh, I dunno… Batman?"

"What about Batman?" asked Graham from behind her, making her jump and drop the file. She bent down to pick it up and he helped, taking a sheet of the paper and looking at it. "Jack Murphy? What do you want with him?"

"Nothing!" Emma cleared her throat. "It's just… I saw him today and wanted to know what his story was."

"Uh huh…" Graham handed her back the paper. "Find what you were looking for?"

"Maybe." Emma replaced the file and slammed the cabinet closed. "How was lunch? Have a hot date with Regina?"

Graham winced. "Emma…"

"I gotta go," she said, brushing past him. She picked up her jacket from the back of her chair and shrugged it on, pulling her blonde curls out from under the collar. She zipped it up then grabbed her keys from her desk drawer. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Shift isn't over for another four hours," he said sternly.

"I'm patrolling for the rest of it," said Emma, stomping out of the station and heading for a patrol car. What right did Graham have for getting in her face like that? Okay, so maybe she was overreacting, but she was still pissed at him for lying to her. For wanting her to work just so that he could make a booty call! She wrenched open the door and slammed it, started the engine, and peeled out of the spot. She had no location in mind until she saw the ocean and instantly she calmed. She had no idea why, but since she could remember, the water always calmed her. Some of the reason she wanted to go down to Florida was because the water was so close, and it had been close in Boston as well. Now, after slamming the door to the car, she walked down to the shore. Her brown boots sunk in the sand, and the dampness of the log she sat on seeped slightly into the seat of her jeans, but when she took a lungful of ocean air she couldn't find herself to care.

"You look stressed, Darling."

Emma, not liking that she had been taken by surprise, did her best not to jump as she twisted her head around to stare at the man that had disturbed her peace. It was Jack, not a big surprise since it always seemed like the people she set out to find always seemed to fall in her lap. Slowly he walked to her, and since the log was large enough he sat next to her, not even waiting for an invitation. Emma lifted a brow at him, a silent question that screamed 'just what the hell are you doing?' His answering smirk had her turning away from him to once again stare out at the water.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm not stressed," she said, a very small lie. "Just thinking."

"Come to the water to think? I can see why," he said, crossing his feet in front of him, leaning back against his hands which rest on the textured wood. He was wearing the same clothes she saw him in earlier. "I usually come here to think as well. The water is… Calming."

"It is," she agreed, turning to look at him.

"Stalking is illegal," he said. "I should have you arrested."

"Me?" she asked incredulously.

"You show up at the diner I frequent, then at my spot… Coincidence? I think not."

"Oh really?" she asked, chuckling.

"Nah, beautiful lass like you following me? I see no problem in that."

"I…" Emma faltered, brushing her fingers through the ringlets in her hair, clearing her throat as she stared back at the water. "Sucking up to me, Jack?"

"No, Emma, I'm not…" He stood, brushing the seat of his pants and the cuff of his jacket rose just enough for Emma to see a perfectly circular scar around his left wrist. Immediately she took her eyes off of it, instead choosing to look up at him. The sun was at the perfect angle to make her squint and lift up a hand to shield her eyes. "Until next time, luv."

.

.

.

It was a while before she saw Jack again. For being a small town, Storybrooke was full of problems. She dealt with a lot of drama from Sydney's betrayal to keeping the secret romance of David and Mary-Margaret a, well, secret. There was a new stranger in town and he made the hairs on the back of Emma's neck raise up in warning and she tensed every time she heard the roar of his motorcycle engine. Now, as Sheriff, she found herself having even more responsibilities, including keeping tabs on Regina because the more she got to know the woman the more she disliked her.

Now, however, on the most romantic time of the year, she found herself irritated and perhaps a little cranky. She had never liked Valentine's Day, liked it even less after Neal's betrayal, and she had found herself in the Rabbit Hole nursing a drink. There had been too many couples there though so after finishing a few drinks she wandered the town until settling for her spot. Though she couldn't see very far out, the sound of the waves and the salty smell of the air was comforting enough. She blinked and looked up lazily upon hearing the sound of heavy footsteps in the sand and smirked upon seeing Jack come upon her.

"You know," she said, pointing a finger at him. "You accused me of stalking but I think it's the other way around."

"Hello, Swan," he said, settling beside her. "I thought it was you I saw sitting down here."

"And you thought to keep me company because…" she asked, trailing off.

"I'm a gentleman at heart," he said. "I'm obligated to make sure a lovely lass such as yourself is safe from all the dangers the night could bring."

"Yeah," said Emma with a snort. "I'm a regular damsel in distress."

"I suppose that does sound quite ridiculous," said Jack. "I'm more than willing to bet you can take care of yourself."

"So," she said, rubbing her hands up and down the tops of her jean-clad thighs. "No hot date on Valentine's Day, huh?"

"No," he said, blue eyes flashing with pain as he looked out at the black sea. "Not since the death of my wife."

"Oh." Stupid, Emma, so stupid! "I'm sorry… I didn't…"

"It's okay, luv, you didn't know," he said, scratching the back of his ear. "Not many here do. I moved here to start over but never had the reason to get to know someone." He looked at her again and for some reason Emma could just about hear him say: until you. "What about you, Lass? A woman of your beauty, one would think the men would be stumbling about for your affections."

"No," she said, meeting his gaze fully. "I mean other than Dr. Whale, who hits on anything with breasts, there haven't been many advances…" Except for Graham, who was now dead. "Not that I mind."

"Ah, I see, been burned in the past have you?" he asked, startling her. "You're somewhat of an open book, Love. I can see it in your eyes."

"Valentine's Day sucks anyways. Who needs it?" she asked, quickly changing subjects.

"Aye, tis a ridiculous holiday indeed."

"Where are you from?" asked Emma. "The accent is Irish, right?"

"Tis you who has the accent," he said with a teasing smirk, making her roll her eyes. "And no, I'm English. Grew up outside of London before coming here."

"What made you move here?" she asked.

"I…" He frowned, scratching the same spot behind his right ear again. "Can't rightly say… Just did it I suppose."

They sat in silence once more until the night air grew too cold. She stood first, brushing off the seat of her pants and he followed. She turned to him, about to thank him for keeping her company, or something along those lines, but their eyes met and again that electric pull kept her still. She knew he felt it too, could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed nervously, and he took a small step forward. She didn't move, even with the warning bells going off in her head, and he brought a hand up to gather some of her hair and pull it over her shoulder. His knuckles brushed against the skin of her jaw and she sighed, eyes drooping and he took it as permission before leaning in to kiss her. The jolt that hit her traveled from her lips down her spine to her inner core which clenched with anticipation as the kiss deepened. She felt a hand in her hair and she reached up to grip the lapels of his unzipped leather jacket. Her nails dug into the fabric as the kiss intensified, lips slanting before opening so that their tongues could tangle. She pressed into him as his left hand went down to her waist, fingers tensing before sliding down to her bottom, pressing so that their hips were pressed intimately together. Too fast, they were going too fast, and Emma couldn't find herself to care. He broke off their kiss, leaving her panting and her eyes opened to see his deep pools of blue gazing down at her.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, leaning down to nuzzle at her neck. "You're a remarkable woman, Swan."

The scratching feel of his scruff against her soft skin could turn addicting, especially when his lips soothed the scratches with gentle kisses. She wanted to rip his clothes off and take him right here on the beach but for fucksakes she didn't even know the guy and the last time she just jumped into a relationship she ended up pregnant and alone in a jail cell. That thought alone would normally be like a bucket of cold water on her head but Jack's lips were back on hers and she was having a very, very good moment.

"My house is just up that hill over there," he said, an open invitation, the only question was…

Should she take it?

.

.

.

She hadn't taken him up on his offer. She had stepped away from him, but had a smile on her face, and had asked him just what kind of girl he thought she was. He had apologized profusely and he had looked so aghast for being so forward that she had calmed him with another kiss, hands cupping his face just as she pulled back with the promise that they could take things slow. And slow it was, because shortly after Kathryn had gone missing and Mary-Margaret was suddenly the prime suspect. So engrossed in finding the real killer Emma had no idea that she herself had been in danger until it was too late. She'd been stupid to offer help to Jefferson but as Sheriff it had been her duty to help and protect the people of Storybrooke. Then the bastard had tried using Mary Margaret against her and had gotten kicked out of a window for his crime but was still out there somewhere. The thought was unsettling and suddenly being alone in her and Mary-Margaret's apartment wasn't appealing. So she stayed at the station to keep Mary Margaret company and to also work on her case because she knew deepest in her heart of hearts that the woman was innocent. Even with the building evidence against her, Emma was starting to believe there was TOO MUCH evidence. Mary-Margaret was a smart person, if she'd done it; Emma believed she'd cover her tracks better than this!

She had fallen asleep and hadn't woken up until a cup of coffee was set before her. She had blinked her eyes open, rubbed her eyes, and yawned while looking up and smiled at Jack as he settled on the chair beside her desk. He had coffee, a bag of what looked to be donuts, and it should have been illegal to look as good as he did in his black t-shirt, leather jacket, dark jeans, boots, and black beanie.

"Morning, Swan," he said with a smile.

"If I didn't know you any better I'd say you're dressed to rob a bank," she teased, making him grin.

"You know me, bad boy at heart," he said, licking his lips, making Emma shift in her chair. His eyes fell upon a still slumbering Mary-Margaret and he frowned. "Any leads?"

"Nothing," said Emma, closing her file, rubbing a hand through her tangled hair. She opened her desk drawer, found a hair tie, and pulled it up into a ponytail before taking a large drink of her coffee. Jack pulled out a pastry for her and she accepted it with a smile, aware of their fingers brushing as she did so. "I'm getting worried. I know she didn't do it. Call it intuition. I feel like she's being framed."

"Regina?" he asked, well aware of her dislike for the woman.

"Maybe," said Emma. "Kathryn is her friend, and a part of me wants to believe she'd like to pin it on Mary-Margaret due to her affair with David."

"Sounds like something the mayor could do," said Jack, taking a bite of his donut. "I'll keep an eye out for you, Swan."

"Thanks," she said, grateful. "I'm having a hard time keeping up with crap around here."

"Sounds to me you could use a deputy," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"You offering?" she asked.

"Hell, with me in charge, everyone in this town would get arrested for annoying me," he said, shaking his head. "It wouldn't be a great fit."

"Just what do you do anyway?" asked Emma.

He shrugged. "Random jobs here and there. Need a leaky pipe fixed? Roof patched? I'm the one to call. I'm quite handy with a hammer."

"I might take you up on that offer," she said, a teasing tone to her voice. "Handyman Murphy. Has a certain ring to it."

"Oh?" he asked, biting his bottom lip, leaning forward. "Need some pipes cleaned there, Swan?"

"I…" She cleared her throat, looking over her shoulder to make sure Mary-Margaret was still asleep, a slight blush painting her cheeks. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Perhaps I would," he said seriously.

"You couldn't handle it," she said, smile tugging the corner of her lips.

"Perhaps you're the one who-"

A throat cleared and they both tensed before looking over at the cell where Mary-Margaret was standing, looking somewhat embarrassed over what she had overheard. "Hello, Jack."

"Ms. Blanchard."

For some reason, Emma felt like she'd been caught by her mother, instead of her best friend.

.

.

.

"Jack?"

"Not anymore," he said, looking out at the ocean, a wave of emotions traveling through him. The dreams started on their first kiss and at first he thought it to be a coincidence but it really hadn't been. She was the savior, he saw that now, and just too good for him. Especially with what he had planned. He couldn't risk her getting in the crossfire when he enacted his revenge. He looked to her now. She looked bloody beautiful with her golden hair and brilliant eyes. He wanted nothing more than to grab her and kiss her senseless but his hand wasn't the only thing he lost when the curse broke. He knew he lost her as soon as he'd gotten his memory back. "Hello, Love."

"Who are you?" she asked, eyes desperate.

"Killian Jones," he said, bowing slightly. "Though most know me through my more popular moniker, Captain Hook."

"Seriously?" she asked with a snort, making his jaw tense as he looked away. "Oh…"

"Congratulations on breaking the curse, Darling," he said. "But what do I owe this pleasure of your visit?"

"Don't." He tensed at her broken words and he looked at her, startled to see tears in her eyes. "I mean… Can we just pretend things are a little normal for a while?"

"Emma…" He looked down at the sand, the toes of his boots covered in it. "I'm not a good man to be around."

"Tell me," she said, linking her arm with his. "Because right now you and Henry are the only people I can be around right now without feeling insane. Snow White and Prince Charming are my parents and Red Riding Hood is their best friend and my son… My SON who the Evil Queen raised as her own, is loving it while a small part of me wishes we'd been able to get away."

He was conflicted. Here, before him, was the woman Jack Murphy had been falling in love with. Jack Murphy saw her as the one to help him move on from the pain the death of his wife had cost him. Jack Murphy had wanted to ask her to move in with him, to sail around the world in the boat he wanted to buy, and perhaps get married and live happily ever after. Now that Killian Jones was awake he was conflicted. He still harbored feelings for Emma Swan, but the sudden flow of memories to the loss of Milah and having the crocodile within his grasp… There was no magic here in Storybrooke… He could have killed the bastard last night if he had wanted to, but hadn't… Because of HER. He'd put aside over 300 years of hate… For Emma Swan… And it terrified him.

"There are some things you need to know," he confessed. "I have a feeling once you hear of my tribulations you might think differently of me… Of us."

"Tell me," she said, looking up at him. "Tell me everything, Killian."

.

.

.

They crashed into his home, limbs tangled and teeth clanking together as each tried to disrobe the other as fast as they could. Missing a hand didn't deter Hook as much as Emma thought it would. He'd confessed everything to her, from the death of Milah to wanting revenge on Gold, and finally his inability to enact that revenge because of her. He'd been so damn open and honest with her she'd just spilled everything about Neal and she felt like a large weight has been taken off her chest because someone else KNEW about it. Not just her. She'd seen the sympathy in his eyes, as well as boiling anger, and she knew if he ever saw Neal that perhaps he wouldn't be as merciful with him as he'd been with Gold the prior night.

So here they were, taking off clothes, tossing articles so that they landed on the floor or on various pieces of furniture throughout his living room. The sweatshirt he'd been wearing had hidden his stump well but now her hands were on it and he looked away. He missed his hook, missed his bloody hand for the second time of his life, but the almost lovingly way she caressed his stump had him looking back at her as her other hand traveled up his chest.

"You're so hairy," she teased, taking the focus off his stump, and if Captain Hook didn't already love Emma Swan he certainly did after this.

"Quite the mongrel, aren't I?" he asked, wrapping his left arm around her waist to pull her close while his right hand reached behind her to unclasp her bra. There was one good thing about having been cursed, he knew how the contraptions known as bras worked.

Both her hands traveled up his back, over the uneven skin that she also didn't comment on, only to slide into his hair and tug before kissing him again. They toed off their boots and she shucked her jeans and panties to the floor before undoing the button on his pants. They actually managed to make it to the bedroom with the trail of clothes behind them. She fell back onto the bed, watching as he pulled his jeans down his hips, revealing that he'd had nothing beneath, and his eyes flashed as she licked her lips while appraising his hardening length.

"Temptress," he groaned, easing on top of her, sighing at the feeling of rightness he felt as she eased her legs open for him. "Siren…"

"Like you haven't been a pain in the ass with the coy looks and black leather," she breathed, nuzzling his neck.

"I prefer rapscallion…" he murmured, lips traveling down the column of her throat, grinning as the scruff of his neck grazed over her sensitive nipples. "Scoundrel…"

"Pirate," she muttered as his splayed right hand traveled down her ribs to her hip but stayed there when all she wanted was his fingers between her legs, as well as another attachment to his body that was pressing against her inner thigh.

"Aye," he said, tongue dashing out to swirl around her bloomed nipple. "That too."

"Please, Jack… Killian…" she whispered. "No more talking."

"On that we agree on, my Swan," he said before moving his hand between her legs. Finally, he touched her, and he cursed while she closed her eyes and arched into his tough. "So bloody wet for me, kitten…"

"Still too much…" Her breath hitched, fingers clenched in his soft sheets, and she bit her lip seductively. "Talking…"

"Apologies milady," he murmured, fingertip dipping inside her, and he reveled at how tight she felt. His fingers played her like an instrument, first slow and gentle, building her up so that a sweet burn started to spread in her core. Suddenly the passion he felt for her crested into something more primal. His blue eyes remained trained on her, taking in every little detail. Her heavy breathing transitioned into panting and he pulled out his fingers before positioning himself at her entrance. "Swan… Emma…"

"Take me," she murmured, reaching down to caress his already hard member. His body was poised above her and she could see his jaw tense as he sunk into her. Soon they were face to face, connected at the hips, and nothing had ever felt this right before. She urged him to move with a roll of her hips and he chuckled before moving inside her. He filled her completely, stretched her deliciously, and the sensation of the hair peppered across his chest sliding over her smooth skin stimulated her beyond what she thought possible. Her tight walls were the best thing he's ever felt in his life, and he would bet her taste would rival any rum in the land, and he vowed then and there that he'd have his mouth between her legs on their next encounter. Now, he hitched her leg up to his waist and she curled around him as he kept a steady pace. Random kisses were placed on her lips and jaw while her fingers tangled in his hair. When she came, the sounds she made were nothing but music to his ears and all it took him were a few more thrusts to follow behind her, releasing his seed into her tight little quim.

"Bloody hell," he said, pulling out of her before falling to the other side of the bed.

"That was…" She sighed, curling a leg over his waist, making him turn his head to look at her with a grin on his face. "We need to do that again."

"Sure, love, just let me get my breath back first," he said, wagging his eyebrows, making her roll her eyes.

"Please," she said. "If THAT made you tired then perhaps you can't handle what I have in-"

He reached out and wrapped his stumped arm around her, pulling her to him, and then rolled to hover over her. His blue eyes burned at the challenge she just issued. Tired? After one single romp? He scoffed at the thought. Did his Swan think he had no other tricks up his sleeve? Well, he's always loved a challenge, and making Emma Swan admit he was the best love that she'd ever had was one he'd gladly accept.

END