A/N: I AM SO EXCITED THAT MANY OF YOU IMMEDIATELY RECOGNIZED PETER QUINN/RUPERT FRIEND FROM SHOWTIME'S HOMELAND IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. NOT ONLY DID I INCLUDE A DASH OF HOMELAND QUINN-CARRIE SHIPPING FANFICTION, BUT I ALSO BORROWED SOME OF QUINN'S BACKSTORY FOR PRIEST HOOK.
WHO CANNOT LOVE A BEAUTY LIKE RUPERT FRIEND? AND HE IS A BADASS ON HOMELAND.
TO THE COMMENTER CONFUSED ABOUT THE DESCRIPTION OF HOOK AS AN ARISTOCRATIC "PUBLIC SCHOOL" BOY – THE TERM PUBLIC SCHOOL IN ENGLAND REFERS TO A SPECIFIC GROUP OF VERY OLD, PRIVATE SCHOOLS, ORIGINALLY ALL BOY BOARDING SCHOOLS, FOUNDED BEGINNING IN THE 16TH CENTURY TO EDUCATE POOR SCHOLARS. NOW THEY ARE IDENTIFIED WITH EDUCATION OF THE UPPER CLASSES AND INCLUDE ETON, HARROW, RUGBY AND WINCHESTER. NOT ALL PRIVATE SCHOOLS (CALLED "FEE PAYING SCHOOLS" ARE "PUBLIC SCHOOLS" IN THIS SENSE).
SORRY TO BE DELAYED IN POSTING THIS UPDATE. I WELL KNOW THE PAIN OF WAITING FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT – I AM CURRENTLY IMPATIENT FOR BOOK #4 OF THE DEBT INHERITANCE SERIES BY PEPPER WINTERS TO COME OUT LATER THIS MONTH. HIGHLY RECOMMEND THESE BOOKS FOR FANS OF DARK EROTIC FICTION! NEVER THOUGHT I COULD FALL IN LOVE WITH A DOMINANT ALPHA MALE HERO NAMED JETHRO, BUT THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING.
I ALSO HIGHLY RECOMMEND BLACK SAILS ON STARS. I AM LOVING ZACH MCGOWAN AS PIRATE CAPTAIN BADASS CHARLES VANE AND I TOTALLY SHIP VANE AND ELEANOR GUTHRIE, WHO LOOKS LIKE A YOUNGER VERSION OF EMMA SWAN. MCGOWAN'S BODY IS INSANE.
IF YOU ARE AN ARCTIC MONKEYS FAN, YOU WILL ENJOY THIS CHAPTER.
Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?
A week had passed since Emma's revelatory meeting with Quinn, and she was literally crawling the walls with frustrated desire. Priest Hook continued to treat her with distant politeness when she saw him, and she was uncertain what, if anything she would do with the mind-boggling information she'd gleaned. Probably nothing, she thought ruefully.
The only thing at all interesting that had happened was her sense one Tuesday afternoon that she'd come upon Hook discretely surveilling Gold across the street from the latter's real estate office. A day later, she was surprised to see Hook inside the office exchanging a few apparently civil words with Gold inside. She immediately wondered whether Gold was actually his target.
She couldn't resist confronting him by pretending to bump into him immediately as he exited the office.
"Why, Father Hook!" she said in her most innocent and surprised little voice. "What were you doing in Mr. Gold's office? Checking out beachfront property?" She gave him a sweet smile all the while imagining herself dropping to her knees to unzip his trousers and….
"How nice to see you Miss Swan. Just thought I'd get to know Mr. Gold a little more," he replied, a little too casually. "After all, he is technically a parishioner and a nice donation to the roof repair fund would hardly be amiss, now would it?" He bared his teeth at her wolfishly, daring her to challenge him.
She gave him a long, appraising look. Don't think you fool me for a single instant you sick fuck.
He returned her stare with a brazen little half smile, then deliberately ran his tongue along his lower lip, as if in deep thought. I'd like to fuck you until you can taste me in the back of your throat.
Emma could hear him thinking and was the first to break eye contact. Weakling! She cursed herself. Then she pushed past him and walked purposefully up Main Street. She thought she heard him give a little chuckle as she strode away. Bastard!
A few days later, she was leaving the gym when she felt herself being pulled into the alley adjacent to the building and found herself facing Hook dressed in his dog collar and a black leather jacket, unzipped. Damn, he looked good.
"Busy tomorrow? Or can you get away for the evening?" he asked nonchalantly, looming over her, his hand gripping her arm in a manner both threatening and inappropriately intimate.
She could feel herself becoming instantly aroused and willed herself to remain unruffled.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked, a trifle too flirtatiously.
He leaned close to her ear. "Let's play," he murmured.
She paused a moment, then nodded shakily. "When and where?"
"Six pm, the rectory," he said huskily. "Don't let anyone see you. And tell your parents you'll be away for the whole night."
That gave her pause. Was she actually willing to entrust her personal safety to a dangerous ,unstable man who enjoyed tying her up and whipping her? Hell no!
"I'll be there," she heard herself saying tensely, extricating her arm from his grip delicately but firmly.
The next evening found Emma hiding her car along a dirt road in the forest used by the Park Service and walking nearly a mile to creep up on the rectory and let herself discretely inside. Seeing no one lurking in the gathering darkness, she darted to the side door and rapped on it with two knuckles hesitantly.
It took a few minutes for him to respond, and she could hear his iPod playing Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? by the Arctic Monkeys. God, she loved that whole album, it hit her libido right where it lived, sex music for the dark small hours of a sultry night. She shivered with excitement as she heard the familiar sounds of the predatory guitar chords, the thumping, driving, after-midnight bass and drum beats.
Now it's three in the morning,
And I'm trying to change your mind,
Left you multiple missed calls
And to my message you reply.
Why'd you only call me when you're high?
The music was seguing into the sinister guitar riff of Do I Wanna Know? when he opened the door, his hair still dripping, clad only in a towel. Evidently, he'd just gotten out of the shower.
Emma swallowed hard at the sight of the wet priest and slithered past him into the kitchen. "Took you long enough," she tossed off over her shoulder as she shrugged out of her coat.
"Don't pout, it doesn't become you," he rejoined. "Have a glass of wine," he offered, pouring one from an open bottle on the counter near the sink.
"Wouldn't say no," she answered, diffidently, accepting the glass from him.
She took a few cautious sips. "It's good…."
He cut her off, smoothly taking her glass from her and pulling her against his half clad body. She could feel the dampness of the black curls on his chest against her cashmere sweater. He tangled his hand in her hair, yanked her head back, and overpowered her with a possessive and presumptuous open mouthed kiss, his tongue invading her mouth like a barbarian invader.
She suspended breathing for several long moments until he pulled away, a smug expression on his face, enjoying his sense of ownership and mastery of her.
"I'll be just be a moment, darling. Drink your wine," he ordered. "It will relax you," he continued, leering at her just before disappearing down the hallway.
Emma didn't mind if she did. She was overcome with a heady combination of fear and anticipation and she gulped down her wine with ill-advised speed. She poured another and wasted little time knocking that one back too. Having had nothing to eat since breakfast, the alcohol hit her immediately and she felt tipsy. But it took the edge off her nervousness.
When he returned, he tutted over her progress. "What a lush you are, Swan! Here, have a glass of water. You'll need to stay hydrated – for later," he said mysteriously.
Emma gulped down the water while he led her down the hallway to his bedroom. She immediately noticed that his bed now sported actual sheets and a duvet in contrast to the Spartan sleeping bag she'd observed during her first illegal visit to his home.
"Actual bedding! For me? Really?" she mocked sarcastically.
"The sky's the limit, love," he said. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. He sat down on the bed and lounged back on his elbows.
"Take off your clothes," he ordered.
She stared at him for a few seconds, suddenly shy.
"Now!" he barked impatiently.
She shimmied out of her clothes with dispatch and stood before him, naked.
He eyed her lasciviously up and down, then sat up and began to squeeze her breasts with both hands. "Very nice," he breathed, pinching her nipples painfully, making them stand to attention and beg for his mouth on them.
He pulled off the duvet and ordered her to get on her hands and knees. When she complied, he reached into a small bag near the bed and pulled out a heavy looking, conical glass plug with a flared handle at the end along with a tube of lubricant.
Her eyes widened with alarm at the possibilities of how he planned to use these on her.
Smiling, he delved between her legs with his hand and parted her with his fingers. "You're already dripping wet, you filthy slut," he said, pursing his lips disapprovingly. "You are going to make this difficult for yourself, aren't you?" he chuckled.
He walked around behind her and she could hear him rustling around as he prepared the toy to his liking. The next minute she started as she felt the cold end of the plug against the tight constriction of her nether passage.
He sighed impatiently, smacking her ass hard until the tender white flesh became red and inflamed. "We've been through this before, Swan. Relax and open up like my good girl," he said in a velvety voice. He placed his warm hands on her burning ass and rubbed away the ache. Then she felt him dipping lower and lower until she felt his nimble fingers expertly manipulating her swollen little peak and stroking inside her. She panted beneath the intense pleasure of his touch and the contrast with the pain of her flaming ass.
This time when she felt the cold glass, she concentrated on relaxing, hissing as it entered her, the pain and pressure heightening the sensations he triggered in her as he continued to use his other hand to manipulate and stimulate her simultaneously. She closed her eyes against the onrushing sensations, with no idea of or concern for what was coming next.
Abruptly he pulled his hand away from her and she almost howled her displeasure at the loss of his exquisite touch. She craved him like a drug. She'd crawl over gravel to get another fix.
"Turn over and lie down flat on your back," he ordered, his voice brisk and peremptory again.
She carefully turned over and eased herself onto her back, the strange and intense pressure of the plug shifting inside her as she settled into place.
Silently, he showed her four lengths of red silken rope. Then he quickly and efficiently tied each ankle and each wrist to the four posts of the beds until she was spread-eagled and helpless.
"You're a sadistic bastard," she spat out, enjoying her helplessness.
"Now now, Swan. I thought we already established that that was your type?" he smiled at her suggestively. "Just admit there's a part of you that has been desperate to give up control for years. Think of me as your liberator."
Unwilling to acknowledge the truth of this, she turned her head away from him as he stood over her, admiring his handiwork and the perfection of her naked body spread before him like a banquet, her glistening cunt and erect nipples firing his filthy imagination as the prowling, stuttering beats of R U Mine? wafted down the hall from the ipod player in the living room.
"I am really going to enjoy this," he mused contemplatively. Then he glanced at his wristwatch. "Oh bollocks, I'm running late. I'd better hurry." He slipped out of his sweatpants giving her a sexy eyeful before he began hurriedly pulling on a pair of sober black wool slacks and his clerical shirt and collar.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, her eyes incredulous. "You better not be planning to go somewhere and leave me here like this!"
He was on her in under a second, his hand around her throat. "Watch your tone, Swan, and be quiet. Else I'll have to gag you at the least and thrash you again if necessary."
He eased off just as Emma was trying to remember what in God's name the safe word was.
"I think you need a little distraction, darling," he said appraisingly. Like a magician, he apparated a bullet shaped cylinder a few inches long with a chain attached. Before she could protest, he slipped it easily inside her soaking wet pussy. She let out a little yelp of surprise and then was silent. The music had changed again and she could hear Steady As She Goes by the Raconteurs.
He finished dressing, running his hands through his hair to smooth it back and adding a sober black suit jacket to complete the ensemble. Back in costume, she thought. But for what?
"Ah, almost forgot one important thing," he mused. He leaned over the little bag on the floor and pulled out a small electronic device. "Your remote control," he supplied helpfully in answer to her raised eyebrows. "Works like this." He pushed a button and she felt the bullet cylinder in her pussy begin to vibrate.
The sensation of the vibrating bullet caused her to arch up above the bed, straining against her bonds. She squirmed as she felt the strange reverberations of the vibrations in the glass plug in her ass. The sensations were so arousing she began writhing, which only exacerbated the heady pressure building in her groin. When he briefly dialed the controller higher, she almost came off the bed with the intensity before he hastily dialed her back to a low, almost imperceptible hum.
"I think we'll keep you off the boil for a while," he grinned wickedly. "I'll just keep you on a low simmer."
"Where the hell did you get all this stuff?" she demanded, trying to stifle her moans.
"Why, from of course, where all decent, respectable people acquire their sex toys. They even came in a plain brown wrapper so the postmistress will never suspect, will she? And the return address is always 'Amazon Fulfillment Center'." He laughed. "And believe me, 'fulfillment' is precisely what I'm expecting in abundance for us both tonight."
He worried his lower lip as he considered her now. He reached back in the bag and fished out two lengths of black cloth. One he laid aside, the other he swiftly tied around her mouth. "I'm afraid it will be safer to gag you, my pet. Just lift your head a little – there's a good girl."
He reached over and rummaged through the bag again, this time pulling up a pair of small metal objects connected with a chain. Leaning his dark head over her, he licked and teased her nipples until her breasts were aching with desperate need. Then he affixed a nipple clamp to each of her taut, swollen nipples, screwing them down loosely so they were mildly uncomfortable but not terribly painful. In fact, the effect was only arousing her further and she worried she would be coming faster than she could control or he would allow. He sat back, admiring the spectacle of her delicate pink nipples in the pleasantly torturing teeth of the clamps
The final piece de resistance was to tie the other piece of black silk cloth around her eyes. The feeling of being gagged and blindfolded was a new one, and she struggled against her bonds for a few moments. In response, he soothed her by caressing her with unexpectedly gentle hands.
"You know," he mused, "You are a terrible submissive. Either that or I'm a bad disciplinarian. Probably the latter. I so rarely get time to practice." He gave her chain a teasing little tug and she shuddered in response to the sudden sharp nip to her sensitive nipples.
She made incoherent, muffled noises in response, then stiffened as she felt him crawling down her body. He'd turned off the vibrating bullet and she felt she had herself a little more under control now. When she felt his tongue lightly teasing her clit, however, she arched again as erotic lightening bolt flashs of unbearable bliss radiated from her groin right down to the tips of her fingers and toes and up through the top of her head. She shuddered as he took his time with a long, slow, lubricious lick of his tongue from the base to the very top of her cleft.
A few minutes later, he rose, walked around the bed, and stood near the door.
"Now you just sit tight and enjoy yourself, love. I'll be a little while. Didn't I tell you I was expecting an altar guild meeting here this evening? I don't think it will take too long, and in the meanwhile I expect I'll find a few ways to entertain you – remotely at least." He laughed as she emitted an indignant squeak in response.
She could hear his footsteps receding down the hall. He must have left the door open at least a crack for she could still hear the music, this time Lonely Boy by the Black Keys.
Oh, oh-oh I got a love that keeps me waiting
I'm a lonely boy
I'm a lonely boy
Oh, oh-oh I got a love that keeps me waiting
If it hadn't been for the gag she would have laughed out loud.
He must have shut off the music after that because the house was suddenly quiet other than the frantic beating of her heart. She shifted, causing the clamps to pull suddenly on her clamped nipples and the plug to lurch inside her. She groaned a little, waiting.
She could hear the tea things rattling, the whistle of the kettle, Then a knock at the door and the sounds of high-pitched female voices, laughing and talking. With a start of horror, she realized one of those voices was her mother's. The music started again, something by Bach, she thought, the volume turned down low but sufficient to muffle any suspicious sounds from the bedroom.
I'm going to kill that sick lunatic when he unties me, she thought furiously.
She could hear him murmuring politely, offering round tea and biscuits to the ladies, who in turn fussed and fluttered about him in a manner highly unsuitable in light of their age and station in life relative to that of their priest. They giggled like schoolgirls at his every comment, fawned over every pedestrian remark that fell from his sensual lips. Emma could just imagine them cackling afterward about how absolutely adorable, how darling, their new priest. What a lovely, polite young man. How proud his mother must be!
The black humor of her situation caused her to grin a little, imagining their shock if they could see that their polite and pious darling had her bound to his bed and trussed up like a chicken about to be slaughtered, stuffed full of sex toys that were most likely illegal in many countries. She rather delighted in the fact that he must be tasting her on his forked devil tongue as he sipped tea and murmured platitudes in response to the fluttering females.
Her grin evaporated when the bullet inside her suddenly began vibrating again. He was literally turning her on in between cups of tea, the devious, clever bastard. She was already writhing, straining against her bonds until she felt them cutting off her circulation. When she felt him slowly dialing her up to a higher intensity, perspiration beaded on her forehead as she fought to hold off her fast approaching orgasm. She groaned, realizing she wasn't going to be able to stop herself and the next minute she exploded, and would have brought the house down with her wailing, screaming, and gnashing of teeth had he not had the foresight to gag her securely.
No sooner had she shuddered and writhed through he first, shattering climax than a second monstrous orgasm began to build…close….close….closer…almost there…NOTHING.
She raged at him in her head. He'd wound her up and then shut the vibrator off entirely. Tears started in her eyes and her groin ached unbearably with unsatisfied lust. But as soon as she had calmed down and her breath evened out, he turned her on again, and started the whole cycle over.
She didn't know how long he tortured her, but she lost count of the number of completed orgasms versus the number of frustrated ones. She was panting, writhing, and moaning again with need by the time the altar guild ladies finally left. She was holding back unshed tears from the aching desire he had been teasing for the past ten minutes or so and her nipples were in agony.
When it was quiet, she heard him change the music and crank up the volume as he picked up the tea tray. It had a driving beat and sounded like When You Were Young by The Killers. How appropriate, she thought grimly, as he actually is one. A Killer. She felt a frisson of fear ripple down her spine and wondered again about her own sanity.
He doesn't look a thing like Jesus
But he talks like a gentleman
Like you imagined when
You were young…
She heard his light tread as he came down the hall. She began to shiver again with a mixture of insatiable erotic desire and absolute terror.
He did not disappoint.
First she felt him remove the clamps and she wanted to scream as she felt the blood flowing back into her tortured buds. She wanted to weep with relief when she felt his wet tongue dragging soothingly across first one, then the other. She wanted to shout with joy as he quickly transformed the feeling from one of intense pain to intense pleasure with the mere flick of his tongue. He repeatedly nipped the sensitive skin of her breasts with her teeth around her nipples and sucked hard, leaving a circle of dark marks there like brands of his ownership of her body.
Next she felt him easing the vibrator from her followed by a gush of hot wetness that made him chuckle a little as he explored her roughly. She arched instinctively into his hand, as he circled her aching clit with his thumb and fed her hungry cunt with his fingers. She moaned angrily in response when he ceased his ministrations.
He silenced her by pulling off the gag and kissing her with a slow burning passion. He licked her lips voluptuously and plunged his delving tongue in and out of her mouth. She met his invasion with aggressive thrusts of her own as he slanted his mouth first one way then another until her lips felt bruised from his passion. She tried to bite his lower lip.
When he slipped the blindfold off, she blinked a little to adjust, though the light was very low in the room. When she looked into his blue eyes, they were dilated nearly black with lust, his lips sultry and lush, and he looked more than ever like a fallen angel. When he rose to remove his own clothing, she enjoyed every step in the slow reveal of his magnificent body, admiring the bunching and tensing of his muscles in the low light, the shadows playing in the hollows, his lean flanks.
When he freed his fully aroused cock, her eyes widened. It looked huge, bigger than she remembered, but then she'd rarely been given the opportunity to gaze upon his naked body. They usually fucked in places like dark closets and cramped bathrooms. His cock jerked as she watched him, thinking it looked like an angry, vengeful god, throbbing with the need to dominate and master her.
He untied her, massaging her wrists and ankles to ease the ache, then directed her to get on her knees before him. When she did, she directly faced his pulsating sex, the heady, musky smell of him enveloping her and making her light headed. "Suck me," he ordered. He carded his hand through her hair and pulled her onto him, and she eagerly wrapped her lips around the crown of his cock, running her tongue along the sensitive ridge and causing him to groan with pleasure. She'd never much enjoyed giving oral until him, found it literally and figuratively distasteful. Now, the very thought of sucking him, licking his precum, and swallowing his seed made her mouth water. Why was that?
She took him deeper into his throat and sucked him rhythmically until his cock twitched and he growled a warning. "Stop now. I want to come deep inside your hot, sweet little pussy tonight. His evident desire and his dirty talk thrilled her and she shuddered. Pulling away, he pushed her down onto her back. He picked up one of her ankles and draped it over his shoulder, then lowered himself and rubbed his cock against her wet pussy, teasing them both.
"Beg me," he commanded darkly.
"Please," she whispered thickly, "Please, I can't bear it anymore… ."
He moved closer, thrusting just inside her before pulling back completely.
She howled in frustration. In that moment nothing mattered by the hot, searing need he had stoked within her. "Nooo! Please, Hook, I'm hungry for you…I'm starving for your cock in my pussy! Please, please fuck me now." Her voice was hoarse, ragged, frantic with need.
His eyes glittered rapaciously as he answered her plea by drawing back and ramming his full length forcefully into her wet, tight cunt, causing her to cry out with pain and pleasure as he filled her. The sensation of fullness as he battered her with his huge organ was heightened by the bizarre, exquisite vibrations of the heavy glass plug as it shifted in response to his intrusion.
He rode her hard, his breathing increasingly ragged as he felt himself hurtling like a freight train toward a mind bending, earth shattering, violent explosion. He could feel the plug moving on the other side of the thin wall of tissue and the clenching and fluttering of her muscles as she grasped him and pulled him in deeper and deeper. "Fuck me harder," she whispered. He was merciless as he pounded against her womb, relishing her cries of mingled agony and ecstasy. She began to clench rhythmically up and down his now painfully hard cock as she climaxed violently around him, squeezing him beyond further endurance.
"Oh fuck," he rasped, "You're going to make me come." He sounded almost despairing. The head of his cock swelled impossibly, and he could feel his balls draw up just before he pumped himself into her in a series of agonizingly pleasurable hot bursts, his body racked by waves of erotic release, his cock twitching and pulsating.
He couldn't remember when he had come so hard he felt his mind slip away. It had been nearly painful. He lay on top of her, heedless, as they both panted to try to catch their breath. When he finally slipped out of her, he drew back to enjoy the sight of his thick, glistening release seeping from her body as she lay dazed and wanton, her legs akimbo, her eyes glassy, lips slightly parted, breasts heaving.
She was simultaneously a goddess and a child, and he was suddenly seized with the unaccustomed urge to gather her to him, stroke her hair, and kiss her tenderly. To protect her after his hard use of her body. He shook his head a little, wondering if his cynical, black heart was trying to claw its way back into existence. No, he told himself. Too messy that way.
Nonetheless, he gathered her up into his arms and held her against him until she recovered. He'd planned some more games for later, but he decided spontaneously that another plan for the evening appealed to him more.
"Are you hungry, darling?" he asked her gently as he played with the silky strands of her long hair.
She swallowed and tipped her head up at him. "Actually, I'm starving. Do you have any food in the house?"
"But of course. Mayor Mills kindly brought over lasagna and apple pie this morning, and I think I can rustle up a salad to go along with it if you like. I think the wine you had earlier will go nicely, don't you."
She smiled at his unexpected gesture. "Sounds lovely. What can I do?"
He shrugged and grinned boyishly. "Do you feel like a shower? Why don't you nip into the bath and start one. I'll put the lasagna in the oven to warm it up, then join you. Is that alright?" He sounded oddly solicitous. He'd tied her up, spanked her, and used her sexually, but he seemed to need her permission to shower with her. In a way it was funny and touching, and she smiled a little. He smiled back.
Emma hadn't known quite what she'd expected from the remainder of her singular evening with the ersatz priest, but it was absolutely nothing like what she would have imagined in the wildest of fantasies. In fact, his subsequent behavior proved to be so peculiar, so perverse, and so unexpected that it shook even her jaded worldview to its very core.
He joined her in the shower, tenderly soaping her all over with a sweet smelling body wash. Then he washed her hair, massaging her scalp, neck and shoulders until she felt warm and heavy with relaxation. When they were finished, he carefully patted her dry, taking extra care with her sore spots. When he saw the dark bruises across her breasts, he hissed in a breath, then leaned over and kissed each mark with refined delicacy. When he was done, he handed her a robe, then left her to comb out her hair and see to her other personal needs while he left to prepare their simple repast.
When she emerged from the bedroom at last, glowingly clean, her hair shining from the blow dryer she'd discretely packed with her things to stay overnight, she found the tables set with candles lit. He was meticulously preparing a fresh French vinaigrette using garlic, salt, Dijon mustard, oil and vinegar. She admired his technique as she sipped the rich red wine.
"The secret is to drizzle the oil in ever so slowly," he explained, "and mix a lighter oil in with the olive oil to keep the dressing from weighing down the greens too much."
This was a new side of him she had never really envisioned.
The meal was delicious. She was deeply touched by his gesture, and more than a little surprised by the romance of a candlelight dinner, as if they were two normal lovers having an actual relationship. Music played softly in the background, the seductive strains of Roxy Music's Avalon album then some Velvet Underground. He chatted easily with her about his humorous observations of the foibles of the townspeople, and she found herself agreeing with his sardonic perceptions more often than not.
When she probed gently into his past, he gave her a carefully edited version of the truth. He told her his parents had died when he was young in a car accident and he'd been raised by relatives. He lightened the somber mood after that by regaling her with his escapades at boarding school.
"So were you tortured at boarding school?" she queried, helping herself to more lasagna.
He laughed. "Contrary to what you may have heard, I never had my head stuck down a flushing toilet nor was I beaten on a regular basis. But there is definitely an element of hazing and some bullying is inevitable. But I probably gave as good as I got, all things considered," he concluded reflectively as he poured her more wine.
She helped him clean up, the entire process reeking of such cosy domesticity she felt she was having an out-of-body experience. He tossed the dish towel on the counter and pulled her against him. Was he going to tie her up and whip her now? Hang her up by her arms? She felt apprehensive. Had he been lulling her into a sense of security and normality in order to fuck with her mind later?
So absorbed was she in her ruminations she had to ask him to repeat himself when he spoke.
"I asked I you if you felt like watching a movie?" he said, his face bemused, as if he himself couldn't quite believe what he was saying.
"Sure. What did you have in mind?" she replied, trying to sound unconcerned. Was he going to show her some BDSM porn? How kinky was this likely to be?
He sensed her apprehension and laughed, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek.
"Relax. It won't be x-rated," he reassured her.
To her utter shock, they watched Casablanca while cuddling on the sofa together. He played with her hair and dropped occasional kisses on her head throughout.
Hook told her that the moment when Victor Lazlo rouses the patrons of Sam's Bar to sing the Marseillaise to drown out the Nazi anthem was one of his favorite parts. That and the famous Claude Raines' line that he was shocked—shocked to find that gambling was going on at Sam's even as he gratefully accepted his own winnings from the evening's play. Emma had to stifle her inevitable sniffles at the end where Rick tells Ilsa that she has to leave with her husband on the plane to Lisbon. When she covered her emotional outburst by burying her face in his chest, he consoled her by telling her that everyone with an ounce of feeling got a lump in their throat over it.
"Why is it the classic old love stories never have a happily ever after?" she complained. Casablanca, Gone With the Wind, Dr. Zhivago, Romeo and Juliet…. ."
He shrugged. "Life, I suppose. But Romeo and Juliet isn't actually a romance, you know. It's partially a satire about the capricious self destructiveness and random desires of horny teenagers."
"You're such a cynic," she grumped.
They were silent for a little then she plumped up her courage. "You know, I really enjoyed tonight. Your reputation as a thoroughly black hearted, sadistic pervert may be at risk. You seem almost….normal."
"Ah, appearances can be deceiving, my love," he said. "Perhaps I can tempt you with some further wickedness tonight?"
She braced herself for him to ramp up the weirdness, which he did, but again in a completely unpredictable and inexplicable way.
He took her to bed and proceeded to make tender and passionate love to her. He was expert, to be sure, but he was slow, gentle, and exquisitely attentive to her every need. She'd never had a better lover and it rattled her more than any of his shocking perversions or kinks ever had.
When they had both finished and lay together thoroughly content and sated, he took her in his arms and pulled her against him in the spoon position. She loved the way his body felt against hers, the feeling of his arms clasped possessively. She felt safe and cherished. As she lay drowsily against him just before sleep overtook them both, she had a terrible realization.
I'm well and truly fucked now.
HONK IF YOU LIKE DOWN AND DIRTY HOT PRIEST/BLACK OPS HOOK! AND PLEASE VOTE FOR THIS STORY IN THE CAPTAIN SWAN SMUT MULTI CHAPTER CATEGORY.
I TRULY APPRECIATE YOUR SUPPORT AND ALL YOUR COMMENTS - I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS! AS YOU CAN SEE, THIS STORY HAS NOW TAKEN A DECISIVE PIVOT AND HOOK AND EMMA ARE HEADING FOR A SHOCKING MOMENT OF TRUTH. STAY TUNED!