So this became a monster beast and a bit more light turned angsty turned fluffy than I had intended. This is dedicated to Kirstin (neededreminding) as she prompted me with Enchanted Forest Smut…sorry it got out of control!

Also I'm posting this now but will do the final edit when I get home so there may be a few mistakes.

This is definitely rated M…so yeah.

Please review!

Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT.

She had just needed a break.

She had just needed some air.

The castle walls were suffocating, the grounds confining.

So she had fled.

Letting the kid know she was leaving for a bit, Emma had easily slipped past the recently appointed guards that attempted to keep diligent and careful watch over the newly returned royal family.

She had just planned to get away for a little while.

And now…now she was about to get stuck in a goddamned storm.

Picking her way through the cool and dense woods, Emma shot her eyes up towards the sky, her brow furrowing slightly when she saw the dark gray clouds gathering slowly—the threat of a heavy rainfall near imminent. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword, a somewhat disbelieving smirk crossing her features as she briefly mulled over the mere fact that she carried it as her weapon of choice. And considering the heavy blade that hung at her side, she tried to assure herself that the reason she chose the sword over anything else had nothing to do with memories of a certain…

She closed her eyes tight, stopping the thought in its tracks, and taking a deep breath she continued on, heading back towards the castle with more purpose to her step.

She was surprised the royal army hadn't been sent out by now.

And rolling her gaze up to the ever-darkening sky, Emma frowned as she considered the more than likely angry greeting she'd have to face upon her return—David and Mary Margaret's constant fussing and worrying more than a little annoying.

She was almost thirty for Chrissakes.

She was too old for this overprotective parenting bullshit.

It had been six months since they had returned from Neverland by way of pixie dust to find the only home she had ever known engulfed in flames. An ugly and cruel war between the residents and the mysterious Home Office having just come to a gruesome and cruel end—the surviving townspeople, had scattered towards both the town line and shore, looking for an escape from the seemingly never-ending wall of fire. It had been six months since they had gathered as many people as possible on the decks of the Jolly Roger, and with the last of the remaining pixie dust, had opened up a portal and traveled to the Enchanted Forest, fleeing the burning and falling Storybrooke without any possible way of ever returning.

Six months since she had last seen him.

The bastard.

Scowling deeply as her thoughts drifted to Hook, she bit her lip trying to concentrate on the sharp sting of pain as the threat of tears pricked at her eyes; the sudden blurriness in her vision warning her that they were close to spilling over.

Damn him.

Upon returning to the Enchanted Forest she had been surprised, amazed and confused to find that Neal had survived the trip through the portal. Aurora, Mulan, and Phillip had found him, washed up on the beach in bad shape, and unwilling to leave him in such a state, the trio had quickly pulled him to safety and had helped him to heal—the following friendship that had ensued both endearing and binding.

Upon their reunion most had just assumed that she and Neal were destined to be together.

Her painful past could finally be put to rest.

They had assumed that she was finally getting her happily ever after.

It was time to pick up the pieces and start anew.

They had assumed that "true loves" had been reunited once more.

Her fairytale was coming to a close.

Only, that wasn't how she had seen it.

She loved Neal, she always would. He was her first love, her son's father, and despite their past—the pain and hurt that lingered between them—she knew that he was genuinely a good person.

But he was her past, not her future.

And her heart clenched tightly and her lips pursed together as she attempted to block out images of the gleam of metal, bright blue eyes, and a dark lone figure—the sound of a whispered lilting voice echoing in her head.

In Neverland she had found her son, yes. But the more she had worked side by side with Hook as equals, the more she had begun to trust him, the more she had allowed herself to understand him, the more she had found herself opening up to the idea of something new. They had saved each others lives countless times; they had seen each other at their worst. When she had felt hopeless and lost, darkly contemplating her life—everything behind her, everything ahead of her—he had pulled her back from that seductive ledge; and she, in return, had taken him with her.

They had understood each other when no one else could.

Finally, gradually, she had found herself considering the terrifying notion that maybe she could love more than once. Maybe she wasn't completely closed off to letting someone in. Maybe she wasn't completely broken after all.

But even with the realization dawning inside of her, always stubborn and forever scared, she had brushed off his never-ending advances, temporarily doused out the spark of hope he had lit inside of her, and had willed herself to concentrate on Henry and Henry only.

To his credit, he hadn't pushed her—his innuendos halfhearted, his eyes understanding.

And it was with his gentle acceptance, his willingness to wait, that the future…her future…had begun to look a lot less grim.

Only, after they had returned to the Enchanted Forest, after everyone had decided to rebuild their lives there, after Neal's survival had been discovered…

He had disappeared.

And for six months she had thrown herself into helping her parents rebuild their kingdom—the creatures and people of the land more than happy to acknowledge the return of its rightful rulers.

For six months she had attempted to adjust to the new hardships of the odd and strange life that had chosen her and to the ever unpredictable and somewhat intimidating roles that had been thrust upon her.

For six months she had attempted to forget him—ignoring the slight disappointment in Henry's innocent eyes when he had realized that Neal wasn't her "true love" while disregarding the questions and curious gleams shining within her parents ever searching stares.

For six months she had attempted to just survive—shocked by the painful crack that his disappearance had left in her heart.

And for the most part she had successfully evaded him; well practiced in closing herself off to unpleasant memories and wishful notions. But it was times like now, the rare moments she found herself alone, that it became increasingly difficult to pretend that she was no longer affected by him.

Shaking her head, Emma continued to push thoughts of him, of what could have been, and what never was, from her head—cursing internally for allowing herself to slip in the first place. And slowly, with stubborn and determined effort, she felt her sadness give way to anger, her longing transforming to betrayal.

Stupid, self-serving, arrogant bastard.

Harnessing her emotions, controlling them, and placing another layer on the ever-growing wall around her heart, she picked up her pace, frowning again when the sound of thunder in the distance rumbled threateningly above. And as a gust of wind blew through the trees, sending the branches creaking and swaying, she rolled her eyes and picked up her pace, focused on making it back before the looming storm. She was in no mood to turn up at the castle both sopping wet and angry—the combination wouldn't fare well for the blowout that would likely result between herself and David and Mary Margaret.

Coming into a small clearing, she scanned the area briefly, taking in the sight of the large leafy trees, the scattered rocks, and dense overgrowth. Sighing she stretched a little, the heavy smell of moisture in the air laced with dirt and trees invading her senses—the light smell somewhat soothing and a little intoxicating. Appreciating it for a moment, taking the time to inhale deeply, she closed her eyes, calming her nerves and relaxing her mind before shaking herself out of her brief reverie. Quickly, she began walking once more—intent on moving on.

The sound of a rustling noise behind her, followed by the loud and telling snapping of a twig had her pausing abruptly as her body tensed suddenly. Holding her breath, she straightened her spine—listening, waiting, readying. And tightening her hold on the hilt of her sword she felt a rush of adrenaline course through her fast, her lips lifting into a mirthless somewhat cruel smile as her body prepared for fight. True, she was in the middle of the woods; the sound was more than likely a deer or a rabbit attempting to find its home before the rain began. But as she unsheathed her sword with a cool and calm confidence, she couldn't drown out the small part of her that was hoping it was trouble.

A group of bandits looking to kidnap the savior.

A wayward thief looking for a quick lift.

A do-gooder guard sent to bring her home.

She was itching for a fight.

And hearing a slight unmistakable shuffle behind her again, the heavy presence of someone at her back, Emma raised her weapon without further thought and spun around fast in one fluid and smooth movement—a self-satisfied somewhat challenging smirk hanging onto her lips.

After all, she was rightfully confident, somewhat careless, and undoubtedly dangerous.

As her sword came into contact with another, the heavy clash of metal against metal jarred her slightly—the hit sending a vibrating pulse shooting up her tensed arms and then back down her body in a hot and rushing wave.

And it was over the crossed blades, past the shining silver steel, that her eyes met the piercing and shocking blue of an all too familiar gaze.

"Hook."

She hadn't meant to speak his name; the word had slipped out in a low whisper— her tone a clashing combination of warning and incredulity.

"Miss me darling?"

His tone was soft, hypnotizing, and velvet smooth.

She wasn't exactly sure what took over her, spurring her to move—anger, disbelief, denial…all of the above. But suddenly she found herself swearing violently under her breath, backing up, and then swinging at him again—the shock in his eyes just barely visible over the unmasked awe that glimmered in their depths.

For a few tense moments neither of them said anything—blades clashing, brows furrowed, breathing heavy—they fought each other silently, the woods and the creatures that lurked within them their only audience.

"You've gotten better," he murmured, blocking a brutal hit with skillful ease as he paid close attention to her practiced footwork.

"You've gotten sloppy." she shot back, silently pleased that he had taken notice.

Six months was a long time and the Enchanted Forest more often than not proved to be downright boring—some days her desire for her world was nearly unbearable. She missed modern amenities…and good coffee…no one could fucking talk to her about coffee—she'd sell her soul for a decent cup from Granny's diner.

But instead of moping, she had quickly realized she had needed an outlet for her energy and ever-raging emotions. Mary Margaret had suggested archery, but she had opted for the sword instead.

She had spent grueling hours with David learning his technique and mastering the weapon. And when she was certain that he was going easy on her, she had hand-picked her own teacher, brushing aside her mother's worried stares and her father's somewhat wounded pride.

She had become bruised and bloodied and at times slightly maniacal but she was positive that her hard work and effort had paid off.

She had gotten good.

Dodging a hit, she back pedaled, her feet shuffling across the leaf and mud ridden ground as he swung at her again, her eyes going wide as their blades crossed once more—the tip of his sword mere inches away from her nose.

"You've improved…but I'm still better."

Twisting her wrist, she reveled in the screeching noise of their swords grinding against each other, appreciating the sharp sound. And shooting him a sardonic smile, she took a step back, keeping her sword leveled in front of her as she narrowed her eyes.

"That still remains to be seen Hook."

He grinned at that, the smile bright and lightning fast. "You never answered my question Swan."

"Oh?"

"Have you missed me?"

Instead of answering she came at him again, huffing slightly as he raised his sword to deflect hers, the heavy ache forming in her arms a welcome feeling to the spinning in her head and the pounding of her heart. And as he blocked yet another hit, she let out of livid curse—frowning when he nearly bested her again, more than a little annoyed when he flashed her a another bright grin as he harshly sent her stumbling backwards without seemingly a second thought.

"An angry Swan might very well be my favorite kind of Swan."

"Go to hell."

His grin widened at her biting tone, the smile smoothing out his features and sending her head reeling once more as her heart clenched painfully in her chest.

And she hated him at that moment, hated him with every fiber of her being. Hated him more than she had ever hated anyone. She hated him so much it scared her, because surely such a strong and telling emotion only stemmed from something even more terrifying, something even more intense, something even more real…

Love.

No.

Yes.

Never again.

And stubbornly, defiantly, purposefully, she mentally placed another barrier around her fast-beating wounded heart.

"Every day for nearly six months I've thought of nothing but you darling."

She made a sound in the back of her throat—the noise colliding between a laugh and a grunt and shaking her head she kept her sword raised, the tip pointing at him threateningly as they circled each other menacingly.

"I don't really care."

"Bloody liar."

"I don't."

"You missed me…admit it."

"You left!"

"Yes."

Narrowing her eyes she swallowed over the lump in her throat and blinked back the burning threat of tears, her gaze never wavering from his slow movements as he continued to keep his weapon pointed in her direction. "Why?"

He paused a moment, his playful grin fading, "Baelfire."

"Neal? You left because of Neal."

"Aye."

Neither of them said anything, the silence more deafening then the clashing of their swords.

"Why?

He laughed at the question, but as it echoed in the trees she noticed almost immediately that it wasn't his real laugh—the sound unnatural and forced; something in it rang hollow and harsh.

"You're an awfully smart lass. I'd have figured you would have guessed it by now darling."

Frowning she took a step towards him, watching him closely as he eyed her sword warily. "I hope it has nothing to do with some bullshit that happened nearly three hundred years ago."

His lips thinned out at her tactless words, his eyes hardening fractionally. "If you would be so kind as to not refer to my former life so crudely, I'd be much obliged."

"Cut the crap Hook." Waving his comment away with a quick shake of her head, she stepped closer to him, noting the way he tensed slightly with the action. "You left because—"

"Because I have a dark and rotten past and…"

"And your know what? Stop. Just forget it…I don't give a damn where you were or why you were there…you left."

"Because I stole a man's wife and a boy's mother!" His voice raised harshly the calm and somewhat emotionless tone fading. "Because my selfishness…my actions…set things into motions…things that caused a man to become a monster and a boy to grow up alone. I never claimed to be a decent man but I never wanted…" he trailed off, his voice lowering, his breathing slightly unsteady. "Hell, I don't want you to be with him Emma…but I bloody well don't deserve you." Averting his gaze he shook his head, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. "And even so, I found myself unable to stay away…I can't let you go."

Her sharp answering laugh clearly surprised him, his blue eyes shot up to hers with a question wavering in their depths. Stepping forward she raised her arm so that her blade was level with his chest, the point nearly brushing his shirt. "Who ever said you had me Hook?" she whispered the words softly, meaningfully, never tearing her gaze away from his as she spoke.

And as she held his eyes over her sword, she watched as a look of pain shone within them, the emotion shocking her a bit as he stared at her unblinkingly. He looked so lost, remorseful…nearly broken. For a moment she debated lowering her sword, for a moment she debated listening…but only for a moment—her heart hardening determinedly and her spine straightening rigidly. Slowly, the hurt faded from his gaze, the blue brightening suddenly as it flashed with dangerous and obvious anger. A part of her whispered she should be scared, warning her that she had seen that look before—when she had left him on the beanstalk, when he had approached her in Rumplestiltskin's cell, in the hospital when she had cuffed him to the bed, and in Neverland when she had risked her life for him. But stubborn and defiant as always she merely glared right back at him with unforgiving fury. The silence between them grew long and telling—thunder rumbled threateningly above as their breathing came in and out in slow and heavy puffs.

The air practically sparked with tension; the need, fury, and desire crackling and sizzling between them.

When he moved part of her screamed to react, practically begging her to do so. But a more curious, self-deprecating part locked down the urge to put her skills and footwork to use, allowing him to easily overpower her as he grabbed her sword and tossed it carelessly aside in a few swift, fluid, and calculated moments. Throwing his weapon down after, he locked eyes with her, his gaze stormy and frightening. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was on her in one long stride.

When his hooked arm came around her waist and his good hand fisted into her hair, she tensed in his embrace, clenching her jaw as he yanked once on the handful of hair he held, drawing a scowl from her as he forced her to look up at him. And while his stare was possessive and slightly crazed something odd and telling passed over his features that whispered of regret and begged for redemption.

He could go to hell.

She couldn't, wouldn't give in to him.

With everything she had gone through the past six months, the questioning, confusion, anger, sadness, attempts at acceptance, she couldn't allow herself to so easily yield to him.

He had made her care, he had made her hope.

She wanted to hate him.

She wanted to believe that she hated him.

Because, like everyone else, he had left her.

And unlike everyone else…he had come back.

But first he had left.

With their breaths mingling together and the warmth from their tightly pressed bodies heating each other, she knew she was destined to fail. She knew she would give in. Slowly, almost purposefully, as the emotional battle continued to war between them, his eyes dipped down towards her lips, studying them carefully before licking his own and drawing his gaze back up to hers. And as he locked eyes with her once again she felt herself slowly begin to crumble.

She wasn't entirely certain who moved first.

Their lips met in a violent storm of emotions, their teeth clashing together loudly as they both hungrily drank each other in with desperate and near violent need. She could practically taste the self-loathing, anger and hurt on his tongue as he pushed it into her mouth, sweeping the contours and kissing her deeply. And fisting her hands into the lapels of his coat she ignored the sound of the wind picking up and the light drizzle that had begun to fall, and instead focused on the man in front of her. Biting back the threat of a moan, she tilted her head up as he pulled her closer to him and began dusting his lips down her jaw, the stubble of his beard bringing a shudder to her body as the hint of teeth and tongue shot a bolt of desire down to her very core.

She wanted him, God how she wanted him.

Moving her hands from his coat, up his shoulders and bringing them to rest on either side of his face, she dragged his mouth back up to hers, nipping at his lips and demanding that he open them for her as she delved her tongue inside. Kissing him hard, she sucked on his lower lip and biting it lightly, swept her tongue over it again—the combination drawing a low growl from his throat and bringing a self-satisfied smirk to her mouth.

She couldn't get enough of him.

And damn if she didn't hate him more because of it.

When with his lips still fused to hers, he began to move her backwards, their feet shuffling and stumbling over loose rocks, leaves, and dirt, she clung to him even tighter, vaguely aware of his intentions, torn between smiling and frowning when her back met the rough trunk of one of the nearby trees. Breaking away from her, he dusted a light kiss over her mouth once, the intimate and gentle action bringing a crease to her brow as he lifted his head from hers.

She wanted it raw, she wanted it primal, she wanted it hard—she couldn't deal with gentle tenderness at the moment.

Passion, lust, sex, she could give him…anything else was asking too much.

Jerking her head away as he made a move to cup her face with his good hand, she stared at him defiantly as confusion sparked in his eyes. "Emma—"

"No."

"What?"

She gave him a tight humorless smile, her heart pounding even as she schooled her features into an expression of indifference. "You don't get to talk."

As he raised a brow, his lips pursing thin, she couldn't help the fluttering of her heart and the tightening in her belly when he leaned into her slightly, pressing her further into the tree at her back, his body hard against hers.

Assertive bastard.

"Is that so darling?

Staring him straight in the eyes, watching his inner turmoil—the desire, passion, need and anger—her lips quirked up slightly; a darker part, a part that she was usually able to suppress and keep hidden, thrilling at the sight. And without another word, she hooked her arm around his neck and crashed her lips against his, kissing him quiet and feeding her hunger. She might not be willing to hear him out but she sure as hell would get her fill of him. It was something she was good at—feeding the empty void inside her heart with sex and pleasure before closing herself up and shutting everything else out.

It was one of her best defense mechanisms.

Love was something she refused to believe anymore.

And stubbornly she pushed away something inside of her that repelled the thought.

As she continued to kiss him thoroughly, her tongue unrelentingly luring his in to tangle with hers, dimly she felt the resistance in his body. She knew there was a very good possibility that the always lingering gentleman inside of him was fighting the urge to push her against the tree and fuck her senseless, and unwilling to give that side of him a chance to come out, she trailed her free hand down, ghosting it across his chest, over his stomach until it came to rest at the waistband of his pants. Feeling his quick intake of breath against her mouth, she bit back a smile and ran her fingers along the rim, tilting her hips upwards slowly, her body humming in anticipation, she dipped inside and lightly brushed the taut skin there.

"Emma," he broke away from her, saying her name once, the sound raspy and broken.

He wasn't supposed to talk.

Finding his lips again she bit down harshly, a warning, and dusting her fingers even lower she cupped him tightly through the clearly straining leather, her eyes widening when he almost violently jerked his hips into her touch. Feeling empowered and greedy she continued to keep the lingering feelings of hurt, betrayal, and confusion at bay. Running her knee up the inside of his thigh, she drew his lip into her mouth, sucking lightly before releasing it with a resounding pop.

"Emma…" his voice held a pleading note to it, and hearing it something inside of her gentled, her resolve wavering.

Bastard.

Afraid she was weakening, unsure if she would be able to follow through and just fuck him out of her system if he kept saying her name like that, she tilted her head back, giving herself some space to breathe. Her eyes finding his and locking with the steely blue, she held his stare as her hands moved from his pants to hers, undoing them fast she pushed them down quickly, swearing quietly as they pooled around her boots.

"What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious…for someone who talks about it all the time I would think you'd be able to pick up on the freaking signs." She muttered somewhat breathless as annoyance prickled up her spine.

And struggling to toe her boots off she grinned somewhat triumphantly when they came loose before kicking her pants and shoes away, her brow furrowing slightly as she stared at her discarded clothes—a desperate voice in her head silently asking her what the hell she was doing.

She was taking what she wanted…getting him out of her system.

She was just about to screw a pirate who had deserted her that's all…everything was fucking rainbows and sunshine.

It was fine.

She was fine.

"Get dressed, we both know this isn't what I came here for." Hook croaked the words out, and shooting her eyes back to his, she watched his jaw twitch as he clenched his teeth tightly, his entire body tense.

"Bull-shit," hooking her fingers back into the waistband of his pants, she pulled him closer, the feel of him pressing against her exposed skin nearly causing her to moan even as she felt her cheeks flush hot as it fully dawned on her that she was half naked with the trunk of a tree scraping her ass and a light rain falling around them; the barrier of the thick leaves preventing them from getting completely soaked.

Placing his hook near her head against the tree, he brought his free hand up and laid it over hers, stopping her from going any further, his eyes hard and intense.

"You're making a bloody fool of yourself lass."

Anger spiked hot inside of her and she felt a blush of humiliation color her face as she narrowed her gaze at him, her heart pounding fast and her eyes stinging as his biting words hung between them.

God she hated him.

"Get away from me." she whispered softly, averting her eyes and looking at the ground, the sight of her bare legs only further embarrassing her.

"Emma—"

"I said get the hell away from me you stupid bastard." Her voice came out flat and hard and she felt his hand tighten almost painfully over hers at her insult laced words.

The sound of the raining falling lightly, the trees rustling softly, and thunder rumbling in the distance broke the heavy silence between them as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming or yelling at him—her body cooling from the breeze even as her insides roared hot.

"Change your mind so suddenly love?" his tone, just as flat as hers, interrupted the quiet and her gaze flew to his at the sound.

"Move."

He stared at her a moment, something dark flashing in his eyes, his face softening fractionally before hardening again as his body pushed into hers, sending hot flames licking across her skin. "No."

"I didn't peg you for one to force himself on a woman."

His smile was fast and cruel, the grin of a man who had been pushed to his limits. "I wouldn't call it forced when the woman has stripped before him, practically begging to be taken."

"I hate you." The words came out a trembling whisper, and ripping her hand from his, blocking out the pain, the hurt, and the anger that he had caused her for the past six months—was still causing her even now—she pushed him hard, satisfaction simmering inside of her as he stumbled back almost too easily. Glancing down at her clothes she made a move to gather them, ignoring the fact that she was still entirely exposed from the waist down and most likely looked completely ridiculous.

"Besides," she muttered, bending over to retrieve her stuff, knowing she was giving him quite an interesting view, "it seems as if you aren't really up to the challenge Captain." Shooting a look over her shoulder she raised a brow and seeing that he had unashamedly been staring, her heart leapt to her throat as she forced her features to remain impassive. "Thankfully one of the perks to being in this God forsaken place is that apparently the guards are always willing to do the savior's bidding…it's actually become rather convenient." The lie rolled off Emma's tongue smoothly, her words hanging in the air before she dragged her attention away from him and back to her clothes.

She should have expected it.

He was a pirate after all and she'd been pushing his buttons since the moment she had laid eyes on him.

She should have expected it; but yet it still managed to take her by surprise.

When she felt a rough hand on her elbow spinning her around and pushing her backwards fast, her first instinct was to drop her clothes and fight. But the moment her hands became free she found herself needing them to brace herself as she was turned once again and slammed into the tree—her arms shooting out in front of her preventing a painful collision, her body tensing as he came up behind her.

"You're playing with fire princess." His tone was heated, wavering with barely concealed fury as he pressed himself into her, her fingers digging into the trunk of the tree with the pressure.

"Am I?" she was just barely able to push the words past her quivering lips, part of her thrilling at the fact that finally she might get what she had been looking for while another part feared what she had done—she recognized the livid tone in his voice, she could practically feel the anger rolling off of him in near tangible waves.

Instead of answering her, his good hand snaked down her stomach, his fingers brushing over her softly even as the unforgiving feel of his hook bit into her hip, the pinch serving as a warning and causing her to jump slightly. When he dusted over where she was most sensitive, lightly playing with the bud of nerves there, she dug her teeth into her lip, concentrating on the sound of thunder and the smell of rain as she closed her eyes to try to block out the sensations.

She might want him but she needed to stay in control.

"You're trembling." His voice, low and smooth breathed across her ear, his fingers still sweeping against her skin, drawing small circles and dancing across her folds.

Curling her fingers into the bark of the tree she set her teeth, her eyes staring at the rough wood as a distant part of her screamed for her to snap out of it—a guard could stumble upon them at any minute, the storm could get worse, or even more likely, she could lose her heart…again.

"You're also wet." He taunted quietly in a dangerous tone, one long finger slipping into her fast and jarring her from her thoughts as a traitorous moan escaped her lips with the invasion.

"You like that sweetheart." His lips found the curve where her shoulder and neck met and nipping there lightly, he chuckled darkly into her skin when she whimpered quietly, his finger slowly moving in and out of her as his thumb continued to teasingly brush over her.

"I've had better," she managed before she could think better.

Feeling him tense, she heard him mutter a livid curse, before, without so much as a warning, he growled low and picked up his pace. Adding another finger, he laughed humorlessly at her yelp of surprise and pushed her against the tree, his straining arousal rubbing against her harshly as he stroked her relentlessly.

"I had planned on coming here to apologize, to talk, to…damn but you're so bloody infuriating." He muttered into her skin as his fingers continued to work her—his mouth trailing up her neck as he spoke. "Do you know how long I've waited to have you, how patient I've been? And you force my hand…begging for it against a sodding tree." With the last icy words he pushed his fingers further into her, curling them as he drew them in and out of her, the sensation pulling a long moan from her as pleasure pooled low inside of her. "I hate myself. I hate myself for my past…I hate myself for not being good enough for you…I hate myself for leaving…but more than all of that combined I hate myself for coming back…for not being able to stay away from you."

"Shut up." She wouldn't let him change what they were doing; she wouldn't let him ruin this for her. She was going to allow him to fuck her against the tree and then she was going to leave, threatening his life if he so much as looked in the direction of the castle again.

Bracing herself against the trunk with one hand, Emma reached behind her, her fingers blindly seeking the laces of his pants, she tugged on them once, thrusting her hips backwards in an attempt to get him to finish the job for her. It didn't surprise her when it worked. Swearing violently under his breath he pulled his fingers from her fast, the resulting feeling of emptiness nearly bringing a weak whimper to her lips. Feeling him move against her, clearly pulling his pants down and readying himself for her, she held herself against the tree, waiting for him to step up behind her and finally take her.

Finally.

When he grabbed her elbow and turned her around slowly Emma stiffened her body, her eyes widening as she resisted his efforts. No…she wouldn't face him…that was not how she wanted it. A quick, emotionless fuck from behind she could deal with; facing him was too much…too intimate. But he clearly had no intentions of heeding her resistance, turning her around fully he pressed her back into the tree, her skin scraping roughly against the bark as he stepped up and pressed himself against her, drawing a shudder from her as her breath came in fast. She could feel him, throbbing against her stomach, heavy and pulsing and hot.

"What are you doing?" she rasped in a low voice, her husky tone almost foreign in her ears.

Not answering right away he grabbed his length and teased her entrance with it, the surprising action causing her eyes to flutter rapidly as her hands came up to dig into his arms…she was weak. He made her weak.

"I'm going to have you Emma…but it won't only be on your terms. When I take you…you will look at me…" he nudged himself between her wet folds still playing with her, clearly intent on making her suffer.

"Go to hell." she needed to come up with better come backs.

With a grunted oath, his hooked arm reached down and lifted her leg, drawing it around his waist, he pressed himself against her, his face hovering near her neck as his tip inched into her. Biting down on her lip hard and drawing blood she concentrated on the metallic taste, needing the distraction so as not to completely melt into him.

""When you come undone around me I will watch you…I will watch the look on your face when you completely yield to me." His breath soft and light feathered across her face and before she could say anything, before she could attempt to push him away or give in and pull him closer, he thrust himself into her in one fluid movement, stretching her and filling her completely as he drove himself in to the hilt.

Full.

She felt so unbelievably full.

She couldn't silence the moan that rippled up from her throat, she couldn't help the way her arms slid up to clasp around his neck and she couldn't stop her body from immediately welcoming him. Her thoughts scattering, her mind racing, her skin tingling, all she could do was concentrate on the overwhelming feeling of finally being joined with him.

"Gods Emma…" He sounded like a broken man, his words trailing off as he buried his face into her neck and allowed her a moment to adjust to his size.

But she was ready for him….she was desperate for him.

Almost without hesitation her ever traitorous body leaned into him, drawing him even deeper as she silently urged him to move with a small tilt of her hips. Taking the hint he raised his head and his eyes finding hers, she watched as the storm faded from their blue depths, a calm look of clarity replacing it before, with an almost unnoticeable quirk of his lips, he began moving.

"Oh God," she whispered as he thrust himself into hard, hitting her again and again in a spot that made her knees weak and her heart clench as jolts of pleasure shot through her fast.

She wouldn't last long. Not with the way he was moving inside of her; knowingly and expertly stroking her deeply, his hook digging into her thigh, his good hand braced next to her head as he fucked her into the tree—the clawing and scraping against her back only adding to the dizzying sensations.

"Look at me Emma."

Before she could resist she found her gaze flying back to his, unaware that it had drifted, her arms tightening around him as they locked eyes once more. "I've wanted you for so long." He pushed into her deeply, a groan escaping him as he watched her carefully. "This is more than a romp in the woods…I plan on—"

"Stop. Please stop talking." Her voice wavered with the words, her heart pounding painfully as she tried to block him out entirely. She needed release, she needed closure…she needed him to shut the hell up.

"Emma…"

"Will you just fuck me?!" Her shout rang out throughout the forest, the crack of thunder that followed only adding to the angry tone of her voice, her eyes narrowing as her slightly hazy mind protested her words…his actions…them. "Just fuck me." She murmured when the thunder had faded and all that remained was their heavy and labored breathing, the pulsing feel of him inside of her nearly driving her mad. "You owe me this." She whispered, her tone quiet, almost ashamed and she felt him stiffen with the statement.

Lifting his arm from the tree he pushed her further into it, her back protesting the feeling even as her body welcomed the way he slid deeper into her, and placing his hand on her cheek, he ran his thumb over the skin there, his eyes dipping down to her trembling lips and then back up again as he continued to stay still inside of her.

"Fuck me." she said it again, her tone pleading, and desperate and broken. And leaning her head back against the tree, she closed her eyes. "You win."

He had won—she had never stood a chance…not against him.

And hearing the tone in her voice—the frantic request, the breathy sound—something inside of him seemingly snapped and he began to move again. Driving himself into her harshly, his hooked hand kept her leg firmly wrapped around his waist as his good hand moved down to grasp the back of her neck, drawing her head up and preventing her from looking away from him again as he slammed almost brutally into her over and over again—her cries ringing out sharply as the rain began to fall harder, the leaves no longer able to keep them dry as the storm picked up around them.

"Is this what you want." He gritted the words out past clenched teeth, pulling back and withdrawing from her almost completely before slamming into her deeply once again.

"Yes." She gasped the words, her hips raising and falling to meet his as he set a frantic and unforgiving pace.

"Good." Rolling his hips, he smirked as she panted and gasped, the action almost driving her over that golden-tipped edge. "I want to feel you around me. Gods you're so tight and wet I want to feel you Emma…and when you come I want you to say my name." He looked slightly crazed as he spoke the demand. His actions unfaltering as he continued to thrust into her, their skin slapping against each other in a furious and frenzied dance—the sound loud and erotic in her ears.

"Don't be an ass." She bit the words out, whimpering when as a form of punishment he thrust into her harder—she would have bruises after.

And she would love them, admire them.

"Say my name Emma."

"No."

For reasons she couldn't entirely grasp, she was teetering that line of hurt and annoyance at his request. She only knew that he hadn't been Killian in a very long time; the moment he had left her without so much as a warning he had quickly gone back to being the dark and untrustworthy Hook.

Killian was a name she had never spoken out loud, one she still refused to utter.

Abruptly he gentled his pace, pulling out of her slowly, his eyes burned into hers and defiantly she refused to look away—at this point she was all for small victories, not allowing him the upper hand was one of them.

"There's no use fighting it." He said softly, inching his way back into her, his hand found its way between them and rubbed her lightly, drawing a soft and shaky sigh from her lips.

"I'm not fighting anything." She whispered, arching her hips into him, she felt her still grounded leg begin to tremble threatening to give out on her as his length continued to move in her deeply, his fingers still working her intimately as the rain cooled her heated skin. And almost as if sensing her struggle, he pushed himself into her once, twice, plucking her bundle of nerves with his fingers, he ran his hand down her hip and in a move so fast she wasn't prepared for it he slammed her against the tree, hoisting her up as he wrapped her other leg around his waist.

Pain and pleasure…love and hate.

She couldn't properly grasp her emotions, she couldn't sort them out in her head.

"Fuck." The word was barely audible, and closing her eyes she tilted her head back reveling in the feel of the rain falling down on her face wet and cool when he began moving once more, a low pressure tightening in her belly as his movements began to slowly increase—the sudden and telling signs of an orgasm coming on her fast.

"Emma…look at me."

She didn't want to but was helpless to deny him; too weak to fight him anymore, she opened her eyes and let her gaze drift to his.

"My name." His tone was soft—brief uncertainty lingering in his stare as they continued to move together, the sound of the forest objecting the storm echoing around them.

"No." she wouldn't give in to him, she couldn't give in to him.

"I love you."

It fell from his lips with another thrust of his hips, the statement sure, confident, and unwavering—the words sending a jolt to her very core as they resonated in her head.

God how she hated him.

"I love you." He repeated it again, pushing into her once more, her walls clenching slightly, warning of her release as her body began to hum and her blood started to heat.

"I hate you." She tried to believe it, tried to stop the tears that were pooling in her eyes, the shudder that was wracking her body, and the turbulent and unwanted emotions that were swirling in her brain.

"I love you."

Her body tensing, her toes curling, she nearly sobbed as he thrust into her again, the words falling from his lips easily, effortlessly, whispering her name softly between them—his tone holding reverence and awe as he sought redemption in her body.

It was too much…she hadn't wanted this.

Angling his hips up, withdrawing from her completely, his muscles quivering and his breathing coming in and out in pants, his eyes, blue as the Neverland Sea, burned into hers. And unable to look away she drew her lip into her mouth, a single hot tear escaping her eye as she saw everything she needed and vehemently tried to deny.

"Emma…" His hot breath swept across her skin as his lips hovered over hers. "I love you. And I will fight for you until I haven't a breath left in my bloody body…I'm yours…you win…I'm yours."

And with the words, he claimed her lips, his tongue desperately tangling with hers as he pushed into her one more time—his final thrust sending her over the edge she had been teetering on since the moment he had touched her, branding her and marking her as his. Hot white sparks danced across her body, her fingers clawed at his back as shocking waves of pain tinged pleasure washed over her fast, pulling her under and drowning her completely.

She felt lost.

She felt free.

"Oh god oh god oh god oh god…Killian." She couldn't stop it, couldn't help his name from tumbling past her lips as she clenched and unclenched tightly around him—her orgasm so violent and strong that her vision dimmed out around the edges and her head went dizzy and blank as she road it out. And barely noticing the flash of lightening and the loud roar of thunder that echoed above, her entire body trembled and violently shook as he let himself go—blindly following her into blissful oblivion he pulsed hot inside of her, whispering her name as he shuddered against her.

Silence.

Cruel, meaningful, telling silence.

Panting heavily, her back burning, her eyes stinging, her skin completely drenched; Emma felt herself gradually come back into her body as her heart began to slow and her mind started to calm. Still clinging to him tightly, she drew her head back, watching as his eyes immediately sought hers, the fierce light in them softening as gently, tenderly, he pulled out of her, carefully unwrapping one leg and then the other from his waist and lowering her to the ground. Still shaky and more than a little unnerved her hands gripped at his shoulders as her eyes, unsure were to look, drifted to the ground.

"This changes things Emma."

His gravelly and low voice broke the silence and swallowing over the tight lump in her throat her eyes darted to her wet and discarded clothes. Swearing silently in her head, she pushed away from him, unwilling to let her disheveled state embarrass her as she stumbled over to the pile and picked up her ruined clothing. Thankful he hadn't said anything else, grateful he was momentarily giving her space, she brushed a wet strand of hair from her eyes and as quickly as she could manage struggled into her wet clothes, swearing loudly as the task proved to be more difficult than she would have liked, the fabric tight and unforgiving. Finally, once she had wiggled and squirmed her way into her pants, she reached down and picked up her boots forcing them onto her feet with shaky and wet hands.

"Emma…"

Looking over at him she let out a small sigh, noticing almost instantly that he had dressed and adjusted himself properly. "I have to go." She whispered the words softly, raking her nails through her now soaked hair as she tore her eyes from him and picked up her sword, staring at it tiredly.

"Emma…" He made a move to walk towards her, only stopping when she raised a hand.

"They've probably already sent out a search party…please just let me go Hook…" her heart clenched at the word, it sounded wrong on her tongue and turning from him, she glanced down at the ground, closing her eyes briefly. "Killian."

And with that one word, his name, softly hanging in the air between them, she turned and began to walk away, back in the direction of the castle, silently pleading for him to let her go. She needed time, she needed to work through the pained and chaotic thoughts that were bombarding her ruthlessly—her actions, his words, changing things completely. And just as she was blinking past the mixture of tears and rain that was streaking down her face—a combination of hot and cold—she heard him, his voice cracking through the rolling thunder, rustling leaves, and pouring rain.

"Emma!"

Breathing deeply, cringing inwardly, she squared her shoulders, and stopped in her retreat, turning towards him slowly. She should have known better…she should have figured he wouldn't make it easy on her.

"I'm not done with you."

He spoke the words calmly, his eyes never wavering from hers, and as she stared at him she felt the fresh walls she had so carefully put into place around her heart come crashing down as his previous words of love and commitment began to echo in her head once more. And tilting her chin up, and holding his stare she nodded slowly, her heart hammering painfully even as her expression fought to remain calm.

I'm not done with you.

"I hope not," she murmured softly.

And unsure if he had even heard her, unwilling to wait around to find out, without another word, without giving him a chance to question her, to call her back or hell to even gloat, she turned from him once again and walked away fast—her stride turning into a full blown sprint as she quickly tried to put some distance between them.

It wasn't until she had made it back onto the castle grounds, breathless, flushed, and sopping wet that she realized she was both crying and laughing; the beginnings of something she hadn't felt for the past six months sparking within her and threatening to turn into an all consuming raging fire.

Something pure and healing, something that felt foreign but that also whispered of familiarity.

Something magical and strong…

Hope.

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