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#O'queuetie
flipperbrain · 6 years
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Translation: I feel guilty about Bae. I care about him, and hope he’s ok... But, I want you for myself, so it’s a conundrum.
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flipperbrain · 6 years
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The Deckhand and The Dagger
CHAPTER 11: TRUST
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Summary: Hook struggles with these new changes and emotions, together with Jones they search for a solution.
[Ao3]
Jones opens his eyes, his nose buried in the hair at the nape of Hook’s neck. It smells faintly of Jasmine and exertion, and is indeed a strange contradiction; he snuggles closer to press a kiss on his lover’s shoulder to taste the salty flavor of his skin. His natural scent is like an aphrodisiac, a drug to Jones’ senses, earthy and masculine, it elicits an immediate response down below. He had fallen asleep on the plush rug by the fire, sated after their night of lovemaking, its fibers soft and luxurious drawing him to slumber after such strenuous activity. Hook had ravished him with passion and urgency, his desire seemingly unquenchable with a need to both give and receive several times over, he feels thoroughly plundered, but pleasantly so.
His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, still plump and sensitive, swollen by Hook’s vigorous use of them. He did not lie about kissing him until morning, his mouth was upon his until he finally drifted off to the dream world. How glorious it was to explore each other without the imminent threat of danger looming, to relax and be completely immersed in the moment. He closes his eyes to recall fragments of their interlude, the delicious stretch around Hook’s generous length and his tender and careful attention to his comfort; never pushing to move more quickly than his readiness would allow, though Jones does enjoy a stolen moment without preamble, the exquisite pain followed by hurried thrusts and a blissful release.
He thinks of one afternoon aboard the Jolly Roger when their love was so new and they both were constantly aroused by a mere glimpse of the other, Jones stood daydreaming at the helm, looking out over the vast expanse of ocean. Hook crept up from behind, trapping him against the ship’s wheel, his breath hot on his neck as he tugged his breeches down to pool around his ankles before freeing himself. His profane murmuring and long fingers gripping and stroking in front then rubbing behind before easing himself inside and pushing in deep.
Jones giggled trying to remain upright while clutching the handles on the wheel, the rough seas causing it to spin left and right along with his body; with his legs hopelessly tangled in fabric his balance was suspect but his lover steadied him with strong arms and feet firmly planted. Hook was tireless, rutting and driving relentlessly until Jones reached his zenith then falling himself. When it was finished the deckhand turned in his arms and Hook kissed him breathless, he was wobbly for the remainder of the day, but his heart was full. Being wanted and loved so fiercely was an outcome he certainly did not expect when their journey began.
——————
He gazes fondly at the back of the man lying next to him and runs his hand along Hook’s ribs and over his hip, his fingers detect a slight shiver, the fire has burned down and he wonders if perhaps his Captain is chilled. ‘My love, are you cold? Shall I stoke the fire?’ He asks softly. Hook stirs and waves his hand, the flames reignite but he says nothing and remains unmoving, still facing the hearth. Jones’ brows knit together at his silence, ’What is it? Are you not well?’ he entreats as Hook’s trembling becomes visibly pronounced. He tugs at his shoulder and his love rolls onto his back looking up at him piteously, his cheeks shiny and wet with tears.
The deckhand’s eyebrows arch and his mouth forms an O at the sight of his sorrowful expression, ’Please tell me what is wrong! Are you in pain?!’ Jones pleads, reaching for him and hugging him close. ‘I want so much to help you my love,’ he says rocking his partner back and forth in his arms. Hook, now shaking and unable or unwilling to speak, begins to cry in earnest, his face pressed against his lover’s neck. Jones makes no further inquiries, allowing him to vent his emotions while trying to quell his own distress. Whether this is sadness or something else he knows not, but this man needs his comfort nonetheless.
He coos in his ear and pets his hair, ‘I am here with you, let it out my love.’
A conversation must now occur, he would not normally press but these pent up feelings that burst forth when Hook perceives he is alone must be dealt with. He is taken aback of late by these uncharacteristic displays but heartened by them as well, his willingness to expose himself and appear vulnerable, albeit at his urging, is perhaps a portent that will lead to an important change in his mindset. To the position of accepting his assistance without reservation.
Gradually his choked sobs subside, the deckhand lifts his chin with his fingers and studies his tear-stained face distorted by worry and fear, a true blasphemy on such a beautiful visage. Jones wipes the tears away with his thumb and kisses his eyelids, still holding him and swaying side to side as he calms. When his hitching breaths grow further apart Jones stands and walks to the small cart in the corner of the room; several crystal decanters sit on its surface, he removes the stopper from the nearest and splashes a draught of brandy into a small snifter from the shelf below. It is still quite early for alcohol he supposes, but Hook’s nerves appear to be quite frayed.
He hands him the glass and watches as his love tosses back the amber liquid it contains, ’Stay here a moment?’ he says smiling sweetly, then fetches Hook’s clothing cast aside the night before, ‘Dress my love and let us talk.’ Jones pulls on his blouse and breeches then rejoins his companion by the fire and takes his hand, ’Now tell me what troubles you.’
Hook slumps at the the question but is resigned to answer, he would ask the same of Jones in a similar circumstance, ’It is not for the faint of heart, are you sure you wish to hear it?’ He asks looking into the deckhand’s eyes.
‘I have told you that I want to share your burden and I meant it. You can tell me anything, I will not judge… I love you.’ Jones replies quietly.
Hook shifts his gaze and stares into fire searching the flames for the right words to adequately express what he feels, ‘I do not know precisely what troubles me my sweet, it is so many conflicting thoughts converging at once,’ he haltingly begins, ‘I have never felt such happiness and semblance of peace as I have in the last months with you. I am terrified of losing it… and I fear the torment you would suffer if I should perish.’
Jones does not wish to hear of such things but he listens with sympathy regardless of his own concerns.
‘I have experienced devastating loss in my many lifetimes and know full well the agony it evokes.’ Hook looks down at their clasped hands as tears begin to leak anew and roll down his face. ’Amongst it all, the darkness that roils within me wraps its tentacles around these thoughts and twists them into images so dreadful I can hardly bear them. The loss of you in countless horrific ways whilst a voice throbs in my ear to abandon all hope, stop now and live. Continue and die. Its tendrils stab and pierce my heart, they probe my mind and wriggle through my flesh. Some moments I fear I will go insane, only you and your goodness sustains me.’
Jones pulls Hook against him and lays his head on his shoulder, his hand soothing the muscles along the curve of Hook’s back, ‘I am so sorry for your pain, though my words ring hollow in the face of such torture.’ Jones contemplates for a moment ‘Did the darkness attack you in this way before we became close? You did not appear to have such visions or painful trauma prior to our joining?’
——————
Hook has worried for some time that this question would be posed, but it is no time for dishonesty, ’No it did not, though I have always struggled to keep it at bay. To maintain some sanity and conscience in my deeds. To right wrongs though admittedly often with a larger wrong. I did not desire to slaughter and destroy indiscriminately, to loose the demon without cause; only inflict damage when it suited my purposes. The conflict has worsened considerably in the past months.’ He looks at the floor, ashamed of his past actions. This is also a new and unfamiliar development, feelings of regret.
’So I am the cause of it…’ Jones whispers
Hook cups the deckhand’s cheek with his hand, ’No! My love for you is the cause of it my sweet, chaos and love are not natural partners. Evil is threatened by light. And unless it is your desire to remove yourself from my company I will not give you up.’
‘But without me your pain would be lessened,’ Jones whimpers, his lips trembling on the verge of tears.
‘Perhaps my love, but I would have nothing to live for with an infinite lifespan ahead. Your loss would be my ruination. I do not say this to keep you here if you wish to leave, it is only the truth.’ Hook sighs and looks into the fire. ’Loving you has changed me forever, I cannot go back to what I once was… and I would die before I will allow any harm to befall you, you must understand,’ he states firmly
Jones leans back, his features resolute, ’You will not die because I will stand in the way of it, I will not leave your side.’ he retorts
Hook squeezes Jones fingers and swipes at his tears with the blunt end of his left arm ’It is not a subject for debate my sweet, I would bend to your every whim save this. I have come to realize that if our mission should fail my fate is sealed, I cannot continue to exist if I remain a threat to you, or others for that matter. I will not.’ He says finally
The deckhand while wishing to support his love in every possible way is exasperated by Hook’s words, ’But we will not fail! Why would you even consider defeat at so early a stage?’ he asks, ‘It is the blackness speaking and you must fight against it! We will not stop until we succeed, you cannot give up hope!,’ Jones beseeched, ‘We have come so far but have many miles left to travel. I will lift you up and carry you if I must,’ he says, his jaw set with conviction.
‘I am frightened that I would injure you if I should lose my way again,’ Hook answers, his face wracked by grief.
‘Then give the dagger to me,’ Jones says matter-of-factly, ‘I will keep it safe and stop you from acting rashly if the darkness overwhelms. You believe I can be trusted, do you not?’
——————
Hook angles away at Jones suggestion. Relinquishing control is not his strongest suit though he has considered this option before. He trusts the deckhand implicitly and while he knows Jones has taken custody of the dagger in the past, he still hesitates to give it up completely. Not only would it place a heavy burden upon his partner’s shoulders, it would mean laying himself bare and surrendering power over his own free will to another. It is a disquieting proposition to be sure, and one that cannot be taken lightly. And would Jones’ possession of the dagger make him a more desirable target by forces seeking to end their quest?
Jones tilts his head at Hook’s pause, seeing the wheels turn behind his eyes. He understands the weight of his question but the pang of his reluctance still bites. It is the reason he had not broached the subject before, fearing the answer; but he masks his disappointment and waits patiently for Hook’s response.
Hook breathes deeply and closes his eyes, if he is truly honest with himself there is a part of him that relishes the darkness despite its consequences, it makes him formidable, powerful and larger than life. Without it he is just a man, weak and… human. But is that not what the deckhand deserves? An equal with whom he can feel safe?
With an almost imperceptible nod he looks up at his companion from under his furrowed brows, ’I thought perhaps we should depart early,’ he says frowning, ‘but that will not solve this problem. I trust you as I have trusted no other… you shall take possession of it. You are right, it is the only way to assure your safety and the security of all.’ With a gesture he disappears in a cloud of red smoke, reappearing seconds later with the dagger in hand. ‘It makes little sense to wait now that the decision has been made,’ Hook says with a crooked grin.
‘When you hold this you may call me to your side and I cannot resist, I must do as you command,’ he clenches his jaw and hands the dagger to Jones, ’Now place it where you will, my sweet. It must remain on your person should its use be required, I have faith that it will only be employed if there is no other alternative.’
Jones looks at the oddly shaped knife in his hand, it’s wavy edge gleaming in the firelight, ‘Of course dearest, I have no wish to force you against your will, I shall put it away right now. Excuse me for a moment?’ Hook nods in agreement and the deckhand leaps up and trots down the hall to the library. He stands in the large room filled with leather-bound books tapping the dagger against his thigh as he considers where to hide it, he moves to the shelf lined with volumes of poetry scanning their titles, his lips curl into a wry grin and he slides the blade between Shelley and Byron. From the doorway its grip is impossible to perceive but easy to access.
He returns to the living room and plops down next to his love, throwing his arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly, ‘I am so proud of you for taking this step, and so honored by your trust in me. I promise I will not fail you,’ he says brightly. ‘I am blessed by your love, that you would go to such lengths and risk so much that we could have a future together.’
He leans back and tucks lock of hair behind Hook’s ear, ’Now smile and kiss me! I would have breakfast and perhaps a stroll to the lake we passed on our way here? I know some fresh air will lighten your mood,’ He moves forward to press his lips against his lover’s mouth, his fingers carding through his thick mane, ‘Sofia baked blueberry muffins!’ He grins, waggling his eyebrows.
Hook laughs and shakes his head at the deckhand’s infectious good nature, finding such pleasure in the smallest of joys.
'I am yours to command, my sweet.’
Tagging some lovelies, as always if you’d rather not be tagged just let me know.
@spartanguard @laschatzi @hollyethecurious @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @suwya @artistic-writer @ashley-knightingale @therooksshiningknight 
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flipperbrain · 6 years
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Melancholy baby
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flipperbrain · 6 years
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Fallen
please don’t repost or tweet without asking me first :)
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flipperbrain · 6 years
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Getting dolled up ❤️
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flipperbrain · 6 years
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Summary: Killian has a good dream, followed by a great reality.
HookxHook  rogersxkillian
[Ao3]
Killian smiles as he drifts toward wakefulness, stretching slightly he opens his eyes then squeezes them closed again. He reaches down to touch himself, sighing softly in the dark, his fingers wrap around his swollen length grown stiff as he slept, dreaming of his lover. He looks at the man lying next to him and admires his long neck relaxed against the pillow, his hair forming to its shape and curling around his ear.
He listens to his quiet breathing as he sleeps, watches his ribs rise and fall, his eyes sweep the smooth expanse of his back, a graceful S, curving into his waist then disappearing beneath the blanket. He moves closer to breathe in the scent of his hair, to kiss his warm shoulder, his fingers trembling with want slide along his hip then around to his stomach and press lightly against it.
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Rogers wakes at his touch, his breath catches as his lover’s fingernails scratch through the wiry hair surrounding his thickness, his hand moves to guide him, to feel him as he grows hard. His lips part as their palms glide along its smooth skin, thumbs swirling its tip, spreading the wetness that has begun to leak there. He cranes his neck, seeking the soft lips that brush his shoulder, then turns in his pirate’s arms to capture them, plump and yielding, between his own. His hand moves to his lover’s neck, they kiss chastely at first, then his tongue reaches out to test the seal of his mouth, he probes for entry then finds it and slips inside to taste and lick.
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Killian searches Rogers’ face, his eyebrows arch with passion as their tongues dance against each other. He opens his eyes and returns his gaze, hooded with desire, the bluest-blue obscured behind a curtain of lashes. He tilts his head to dive deeper, his lover moans against his mouth and he thinks these are the moments he lives for. When the world falls away and nothing is left, save his quiet sounds of pleasure in the night.
His arms encircle his detective and gather him close, his hand holds the base of his head as their mouths slant demandingly across each other. Then they roll together and he’s on his back, his legs wrap around Rogers’ waist cradling him between his thighs, the weight of his body moving against him, pressing him into the mattress, his feet rest at the small of his back.
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Rogers’ mouth drifts along Killian’s jaw, his teeth biting its edge then marking his neck with his lips and tongue. He pauses to kiss his twin freckles as his lips trace a path along his collarbone to the hollow of his neck, his nose dipping into its depression, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin. His fingers comb through the thick pelt of hair on his muscled chest to find a nipple and stroke it with his thumb, then pinch it between his fingers until it’s erect and pebbled.
His head moves back up to whisper his desire in Killian’s ear, telling him what he wants to do, then moves to kiss his mouth gently, their foreheads together as they look into each other’s eyes.
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Killian grins as Roger’s rolls off of him, then pushes against the mattress with fist and stump to sit up against the headboard. Rogers straddles his lap and throws his arms around his pirate’s neck, his fingers grasping handfuls of his hair, pulling with delicious tension against his scalp as their mouths meet once again. Rogers leans forward onto his knees then Killian guides himself into position as Rogers sits back, groaning as his muscle stretches open to take him inside, then cinching tightly as he fills him.
Killian looks up at his lover’s face, his mouth is slack as he’s entered, their eyes connect as his body engulfs him and takes his thickness completely. Rogers’ eyes flutter closed, his dark lashes dust his cheekbones, he scrubs his face against his pirate’s cheek and pants into his hair, then he begins to move slowly up and down. His hips swivel and angle and move side to side like an exotic dancer, as his lover’s hips buck upward and thrust against him.
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Rogers grips the headboard for leverage and drives himself with force onto his lover, Killian is nearly wrecked already and breathes heavily against his partner's neck, his hand caresses his back then moves to his ribs, clamping his arms against his sides to lift and pull as he moves up and down, fucking him relentlessly. Killian feels his orgasm building and grasps Rogers' length tugging him firmly with his fist, long strokes up over the head and back down to its base.
The detective's body is slick with sweat from exertion as he slams himself again and again, grinding down onto his lover's swollen shaft, feeling Killian's hand pumping him just the way he likes it. He watches his pirate's face in the throes of passion then feels the first pulses inside, squeezing his muscles as tightly around him as he can, until his own spasms ripple through him and he falls hard, throbbing and spurting out his climax between them. Killian curses and grunts as he comes, pouring and spilling himself into lover, his hips jerk sloppily as he empties and strains out the last drop.
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They slump together to rest for moment. Rogers is winded and grinning, his chest heaving as he kisses his pirate’s eyelids and touches his face with his fingers. Killian grabs some tissue from the beside table to wipe away the mess they made together, before they both slide down and form spoons under the blanket. Rogers asks what brought that on, still catching his breath. ‘I had a dream about you. When I woke up you were there lying next to me, it was all real and all true. Well, I couldn’t contain myself.’ Killian answers with a laugh, then reaches for his partner’s hand and holds it against his chest. Rogers smiles in the dark and hugs him close as they drift back to sleep.
@laschatzi @hollyethecurious
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flipperbrain · 7 years
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Secret chess game A thing of beauty is a joy for ever.
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flipperbrain · 7 years
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Good morning, love.
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flipperbrain · 7 years
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For @prairiepirate and @lenfaz
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flipperbrain · 7 years
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True love always ❤️
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flipperbrain · 7 years
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Killian Jones ❤️
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flipperbrain · 7 years
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The look of love is in your eyes.
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flipperbrain · 7 years
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Conjuring
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flipperbrain · 7 years
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Killian
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flipperbrain · 7 years
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Colin O’Donoghue ~ staring into my soul
TCA 2017
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flipperbrain · 7 years
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Colin O’Donoghue | Storage 24
Because there’s never enough of this face on my dash.
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