Once Upon a Time 1. Act 1- The Chase

Act 1- The Chase

In her defense, Emma hadn't meant to sleep with Hook. That would have to be her comfort, the excuse in her head that she insisted was correct. When he had shown up that morning at Granny's and spotted her in her usual booth, she hadn't planned to sleep with him.

The image would stay in her mind forever, scorched in the normality of the diner with its simple comforts and homey curtains – and then there appeared the dark-haired pirate with the blue eyes that had fixated on her the moment he walked in.

She would never be able to eat another hamburger again, not the juicy kind that lay innocently on her plate as he walked in. For some horrible reason, she saw him and then looked down at the food, hoping he'd just go away. It was an odd moment to be alone in the diner, but Henry was off with David and Mary Margaret, and Neal had disappeared with Gold to go solve some new quest. (Emma was fairly sure the quest was a chance for them to fight and make up over and over again as only that father and son could.) She had come to the diner with her cell phone to check emails and play online games while she ate, but the phone wasn't much of a defense to one determined pirate who strode up to her table.

"Swan?" he smiled at her.

Her hand was on the phone and she answered, "I'm busy."

She meant to sound aloof or annoyed, but it came out prim and prissy.

Hook glanced around. "There's no one here. Do you plan to talk on your message box?"

"It's a phone," but he had already sat down.

She wanted to say something cutting or scornful, but she couldn't quite meet his eyes. The kiss they had shared in Neverland was seared into her brain. She loved Neal, she did, but Hook was a new type of dangerous. That look in his eyes when he had touched a finger to his lips, asking for a kiss. And it had been amazing.

"I've been reading," Hook announced.

Emma met his eyes. Insulting she could do. "I didn't know you could read. You found some Dr. Seuss books? I always liked _Green Eggs and Ham_."

"That sounds disgusting, and I have nothing else to do in this place. Pirating isn't really in high demand here, and without a ship, it's just stealing, really. No, I've been to the library to see the lovely Belle and I checked out a book before Gold could get there to kill me for eyeing his girl."

Hook held up a library card and Emma found herself smiling at his signature: _Capt. Hook, Killian Jones, Pirate._

"I thought the book I chose was about different shades of one color, maybe fashion advice, but it turns out that it's just a description of a man's surname. It's all a secret code because they couldn't call the book The Cruel Businessman and His Whorish Bedwench who Likes Her Nights Painful."

Emma stared at him and then whispered, "Are you talking about _Fifty Shades of Grey_?"

"Aye, love," he grinned rakishly at her.

"Hook," she hissed, "this is a family restaurant."

"I've seen Ruby here with her short shirts and necklines that make every man's trousers get tight."

"Hook!"

"Don't give me the blushing maiden routine. You had a child years ago and it wasn't a virgin birth. And you've obviously read the same book so . . ."

"I've heard about it, not read it," Emma corrected. "And that doesn't mean I agree with anything that takes place in that – that wretched thing."

"Aye," Hook smiled. "The acts are enjoyable, but I've been with many women who enjoy being tied to the bedpost while I toy with them."

"Hook -!"

"Really," he leaned closer, "contracts are for buying ships and writing land treaties. Pleasing a woman should come natural whether or not you spank her or she spanks you."

"Stop it. Order some food and talk about normal, G-rated subjects."

Hook gave a searching look and then leaned back in the booth. "Such a prim little nun. And I'll get food shortly. When Granny goes into the back, I'll nip one of her cinnamon buns."

"Killian Jones," Emma scolded, falling into reprimanding him more easily than discussing BDSM, "you can't steal from Granny. I still have ties to the sheriff's office."

"Sorry, love," he shrugged, "but I have no money here."

"What?"

"I traded what little gold I had at the bank for your money to pay for a room here, but I can't really use my skills here for a job. I can man a boat, but the fishermen here bring in enough fish and no one has advertised for a thief. I can't really steal valuables on land because there isn't a black market in Storybrooke and what's the point of stealing if I can't sell or barter?"

"Are you telling me," Emma looked at him sternly, "that in the months you've been in America you haven't had money to buy food? How much have you stolen from Granny?"

"She must know I'm taking her food. She keeps putting out desserts and then making a point of going to the back and staying far too long."

Emma looked over at Granny. Sure enough, she was by the display of cinnamon buns, pushing them towards the edge of the counter and then feeling around her apron as if she had lost her pen. She went into the back even though there were three pens scattered on the counter.

"She's been putting more icing on them since she found out I saved your father's life," Hook said, about to rise.

"Stay seated, you pirate." Emma cut her hamburger in half and angled the plate so he could share. "You need more than stolen desserts."

"Really?" Hook hesitantly took the offered half of hamburger. "What did you put in the food? Poison? Sleeping spell? Impotence curse?"

"Ketchup and mustard," she rolled her eyes.

He bit into the food. His eyes slipped closed as he chewed and he groaned softly at the taste. "Ah, Swan, you're so _good_ to me."

Heat rushed over her at his words, and she felt it grossly unfair that this handsome man should sit across from her with his dashing charm and masculine beauty, caught between the old world and the new, the tinge of magic and the throb of sexuality.

So unfair.

Emma chewed on a French fry, nibbling tiny bites off in hopes that if they just kept eating nothing dangerous would happen.

Hook swallowed. "Food in my day was awful. Everything rotted and molded, no flavor, just bad. Tea was all right but never strong enough. Rum was our best bet because it could keep so long."

"What about in Neverland? You could just imagine it there."

"Aye, children could, but we adults had trouble getting it to come out right. I'd catch Lost Boy every now and then and force him to imagine the best food he could, but most of them had never eaten good food so it was all bad."

"It must have been if you think diner food is good."

"Exactly what's wrong with my food?" Granny had appeared with a pitcher to refill Emma's glass and she set down a glass for Hook with a clink.

"Nothing, it's all good," Emma rushed to assure her. "Could we split a cinnamon roll? One that we pay for?"

She leveled an accusatory glare at Hook, but he just smiled charmingly at Granny. "Lots of icing, if you please, love."

Granny sniffed, but she went back to the counter and took out a bun and the icing bowl, smearing the fluffy whiteness over the brown top.

"It's called charm," Hook said. "You should try it sometimes instead of being so rough and prickly."

"Maybe I should melt like that icing you love so much. Take to being a helpless little princess, waiting to be rescued."

"Then you wouldn't be you."He took another bite of the burger. "This is so good. What is it?"

"It's ground-up cow."

"I like it," he nodded happily. "It tastes almost as good as a woman."

"Hook!"

"Ah, come on, Swan, live a little. You might like it."

Two hours later at the sheriff's office, Emma paced restlessly. She and David shared the duties of sheriff though she found that he had better practice at it, having been a prince and leader in his world while her skills at bounty hunting tended more towards the risk and capture than settling small disputes. The whole town seemed to use the sheriff as a judge of petty fights and half the time Emma sent them to Archie for counseling.

She sat propped up against the desk, tapping a rhythm with her fingers as she tried to ignore the path her thoughts were taking. Sweet goodness, how long since she had slept with a man? How long since she felt the weight of a man's body on her, smothering her with his strong limbs and sweaty scent?

"That pirate," she scowled. "Damn pirate! I should jut lock him up and be done with it."

The image of Hook behind bars, the way he put his arm up on the bars and leaned his head on it as if being behind bars was just too much to bear, the sad eyes he used to coax her to release, the expression of betrayal when she didn't cooperate – it sent a jolt of heat throughout her.

"Screw it," she grabbed her wallet and pick-pocket tool. "Just screw it."

She had used the f-word frequently in her adult world, but somehow in Storybrooke she felt like language should be kept to a PG13-rating. Unfortunately, there was no way to censor her thoughts, especially when Hook was involved.

She snuck into the inn part of Granny's and made her way to his room. The door was locked and she thought she heard the shower going.

The idea of Hook soaking wet nearly made her run back to the sheriff's office, but Emma stood firm. Well, actually, she crouched down and began picking the lock. It opened and she peeked into the room. His clothes were on the bed in neat, military precision and his hook and contraption were on a chair.

A notebook was on the bureau. In small cursive, a list of tasks filled the whole page. _Learn the internet. Read War and Peace. Figure out the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek. Ride a motorcycle. Apply for a hand transplant. _All typical Hook.

The shower was on hard, but Emma still crept over the floorboard, cringing at a sudden squeak. She opened the bathroom door and steam billowed out.

He was singing some pirate jangle that probably was about feeling up a busty tavern wench, but Emma cleared her throat.

"Hook?"

The singing stopped, and he pulled the curtain about enough to look out, "Swan?"

So unfair. How did he look so good with wet hair? She looked like a drowned rat after she showered. He showed enough of his chest for her to see the dark hair soaked with water, and his one hand held a bar of soap.

Oh, the heck with it all!

"Killian," she smiled as she pulled her tucked in shirt out of her jeans and began unbuttoning her shirt.

He stared as water sprayed out of the curtain on Granny's scoured floor.

"You're taking a shower but I'm not sure you know how to wash properly," she took off her shirt, baring her dark pink bra to the humid air. "So I was thinking I'd get in there and scrub you myself."

"Bugger me," Hook dropped the soap.

It was so naughty, pulling off her clothes while he watched without blinking. Emma got down to her bra and panties and fixed him with her sexiest look. "That's all I'm showing until I see more of you."

Hook flung the shower curtain back so fast water went everywhere.

She had never seen his whole arm without his hook, and his stump looked raw against his pale, toned body. He had more hair dusted over his body than Neal did, but most on his chest and legs. As for his privates . . . well, Emma now understood what made Hook so cocky, pun intended. And he was getting hard.

"Well, let's see it, love," he looked ferocious the way he grinned with all his teeth.

Nearly dizzy with the enormity of what they were doing, Emma unhooked her bra and let it slip down before stepping out of her panties.

"Emma Swan," Hook's eyes were wide, showing the white around his blue irises, "you are a goddess."

She tossed her hair back as she stepped towards him. "Move over, Killian. And stop getting water everywhere. You spill anymore and I'll make you clean it up . . . with your mouth."

He crushed her with a kiss as he pulled her into the hot water, and his fingers grabbed at her breasts. He was so wet and warm and real.

His fingers went lower, and Emma gasped before leaning over to sink her teeth into his shoulder in hungry desire.

"Oh, Swan, Swan, you're so good to me!" Hook moaned.

And for once, she couldn't disagree.


	2. Act 2 - Interlude

Act 2 - The Interlude

The next morning, Emma walked carefully into the diner. She was sore, very sore.

She tried not to wince as she said down, but the abused flesh between her legs ached. Who could have imagined that Hook had that much stamina?

In the shower.

On the bed.

Upside down on the bed.

With the hook on.

Then the hook off.

Him on top.

Her on top.

That one time with her holding onto the rod in the closet with her legs around him while he half-held her up.

Her arms were sore, too.

He had blindfolded her one time, and it was so glorious that she had urged him to wear one, too, and they had groped each other blindly until he tripped over his own boots and nearly lost the other hand.

Absolute filth. And she had loved every moment of it, despite the soreness.

The diner seemed so chaste and normal compared to the porno she had participated in yesterday. The patrons looked like good, upright people, and she felt like the whore of the pirating world.

"Morning," David and Mary Margaret came through the door.

Emma looked away, hoping they might not stay. She knew her parents made love – she had caught them in bed more than once in the apartment they shared – but surely their love must be cleaner than the debauchery she and Hook shared.

"Emma," Mary Margaret came to sit at the booth across from her, "hi. We didn't see you much yesterday and you left early this morning."

"Couldn't sleep," Emma said, wishing she had somewhere to look other than her mother's sweet face. Yes, she and Mary Margaret were the same age, but there were some family lines that should not be crossed.

"Regina and Henry should be here soon," David sat down beside his wife, casually draping an arm around her shoulders. "They're spending the day together."

"That's fine," Emma pretended to look over her menu, wondering what excuse she could make to leave.

The door opened, and for a minute, Emma feared it might be Hook, but it was only Regina and Henry.

Henry waved to them and then he went to sit at the counter beside a boy his own age. Regina made a wry face as she approached Emma's table.

"Oh, the Charmings. How lovely. A family breakfast."

"Aren't you going to sit with Henry?" Emma asked.

Regina pursed her lips together. "He said he was too old to eat with me and he agreed to come here only if I let him sit at the table with his friends. Apparently he doesn't care about my evil past, but eating with his adopted mother is just too embarrassing now. Please."

"Here," Emma scooted out of the booth, "have my spot. I have work to do."

"But Emma, you didn't eat anything," Mary Margaret protested.

"I'll eat later," she was already half-way to the door. She paused to drop a kiss on Henry's head – his smiled at her – and then she left.

"Wonderful," Regina crossed her arms. "She can kiss him and I can't even sit beside him."

"He's growing up and Emma doesn't seem like a mother-mother to him yet. She's more like an older sister or cool aunt."

"Lovely," Regina sat down in Emma's vacated seat. "Everyone's giddy this morning but me. And you two can put your disgusting happiness away before I get sick. Every time I see you, it's all gooey looks and kissy faces. Grow up!"

David smiled at her grouchiness as he squeezed Mary Margaret close.

A small boy came in and looked around, clutching a small letter. He approached the booth shyly. "Excuse me?"

"What?" Regina replied and he took half a step back.

"Stop that," Mary Margaret scolded before smiling at the boy. "How can we help you?"

"I was told to deliver this letter to the prettiest, beautifulest lady here," the boy said, lisping slightly.

"Oh, fine," Regina put her hand out. "Give it to me."

"But you're not the prettiest," the boy objected. "She is."

Regina's eyes were huge and dangerous as the boy held the letter to Mary Margaret. "Why you little –"

"Let's not start that again," David took the letter and handed it to his wife. "And the sender probably meant the prettiest in spirit, not just looks."

"Wait, you don't think I'm the prettiest in looks?" Mary Margaret teased as she took the letter.

"Just open it," David said as the boy scampered off.

"All right," Mary Margaret opened it. "It says 'Dearest Beloved, as I sit here in the early morning light, I think of our time together. I remember the feel of your breasts and the wetness of your sopping' –" Mary Margaret dropped the letter, her face shocked and her cheeks red.

David snatched the letter from her and skimmed it. He lowered it, rage flashing over his face.

Regina took it next. "Dear me, someone's explicit. I didn't know you could write such things in Storybrooke without the magic editing it. And it's signed –"

"_Capt. Hook, Killian Jones, Pirate_," Mary Margaret whispered. "Oh, David, those words."

"I'm going to kill him," David grounded out, his hands clenched into fists.

"It's probably a joke," Regina said. "I've done a few of the things on here. Well not that third thing. And I didn't think that fourth thing was possible. I guess Hook bends more than I thought he could."

"Oh, my eyes," Mary Margaret covered them. "Why did I have to read that?"

"You know what those things are?" Regina raised an eyebrow. "You're both so vanilla I assumed it would go right over your head."

"Stuff it, evil queen," David stood up. "I'm going to get Hook and take his other hand. I'm the sheriff here and we have laws! He's under arrest now."

"Now, David," Mary Margaret put a hand on his arm, but Regina smirked.

"And under arrest for what? Writing letters to another man's wife isn't a crime here."

"We have obscenity laws," David pulled out the sheriff badge and pinned it on. "I'm the last decent man in town and I'm not letting this smut run rampant in my town. Today it's a letter and tomorrow he'll be rutting in the streets."

"Oh, please," Regina waved it away. "Hook's just looking for drama. He stirs things up when it gets too quiet. I caught him trying to steal my silverware last week. He was going to ransom it back to me. I boxed his ears and sent him on his way. Though by the looks of that letter, I should have kept him as a sex slave."

"That's enough," David crammed the letter in his pocket. "Snow, go to the sheriff's office and wait there. I'll bring Hook and pull some kind of repentance from him."

He stormed out with Mary Margaret on his heels, urging him to calm down.

Regina looked after them and then at the mostly empty diner. She went over to Henry who made a face at her intrusion.

"Henry, something came up that I want to watch," she smiled. "You can play with your friends and when you're through, come find me at the sheriff's office."

He regarded her distrustfully. "Are you planning more evil?"

She smiled sweetly. "No, dear, today is about the pleasure of watching a pirate squirm."

Twenty minutes later with his gun holster on and a pair of handcuffs in his back pocket, David banged a fist on Hook's door.

"Already here?" Hook went towards the door. "I thought you'd need longer to read my letter, but I'm here to wring pleasure out of –" he opened the door and stopped. Grinning sheepishly, he leaned against the doorframe. "Hello there, mate. I was expecting a more female visitor. Town all right? Your fair lady in good health?"

"You son of a bitch," David shoved him backwards. "We know and now so does Regina!"

Hook scrambled to his feet. "Regina? But I returned her silver."

"It's about the letter!"

Hook's eyes grew big. "You saw the letter? She showed it to you?"

"Of course she did. She's my wife."

"Your wife?" Hook paused. "Oh, that was a mistake. The letter wasn't meant for her. It was meant for someone else."

"Who?"

"Um . .. uh, Regina."

"No, it wasn't. She was there with us and it was clear Regina never did those things with you."

"Oh," Hook glanced around frantically. He had dealt with irate fathers before, but he was mates with David, and Emma _was_ his daughter. Hook lowered his head. "It was to your wife, but it was just a joke. A harmless prank to give you a laugh."

David swelled with outrage. "We have obscenity laws here! Turn around. Hands behind your back."

"I thought this world was about freedom of speech."

"Not here. Hands behind your – well, hand behind your back. Why aren't you wearing your hook?"

"She only likes me with it when she's on top," Hook sputtered as David spun him around.

"What? Who's _she_?"

Hook hesitated. "Eh . . . your wife?"

With a growl, David snapped one cuff around Hook's good arm and clipped the other cuff to the back belt loop of Hook's trousers. His maimed arm swung free, but David ignored it as he grabbed a handful of the hair at the back of Hook's head and marched him towards the door. "Move it!"

The walk to the sheriff's office was short, but people stopped to stare at them. Hook couldn't do much more than wince in pain as David manhandled him. In fair combat, Hook felt certain he could best the former prince, but he had been taken unaware. It was such bad form – taking advantage of a man who was expecting to bed the fairest maiden in the land. And yes, she might have pulled his hair a bit during their previous dalliance, but that had felt good. The grip her father had on his hair did not feel good.

David shoved him into the sheriff's office where Mary Margaret and Regina were waiting.

"Ladies," Hook tried to smile at them, but David smacked the back of his head.

"Don't speak to them. You better be glad they're here, or I'd run your hook through your throat."

"Now, mate, don't talk like that. You're not going to kill me. If you need to rough me up a bit, it's all fair game. Just avoid the face."

David pulled out the letter and held it inches from Hook's eyes. "Why did you write this filth?"

"I said it was a joke. You all are so uptight and I wanted to bring a little joviality to lighten the mood. No harm, eh, mate?"

David's hard expression didn't change.

"Sorry?" Hook put on his best look of contrition.

"Sorry?" Regina mocked when David said nothing. "You write a letter with such pornographic detail and expect it to just waltz out of here? No, no, dear pirate, you need to be punished. So which will it be, sweet Killian? Flogging or a month's imprisonment?"

"Regina," Mary Margaret started, but the former evil queen smirked.

"Punish him in the ways of his world. What would they do in his world if they caught him sending those types of letters to the captain's wife? Well, you're the captain here, David."

"David, don't be cruel," his wife said.

David frowned, clearly caught between Regina's want for retribution and Mary Margaret's urge for mercy.

"Who did you really write this letter to?" Regina stepped close. "It's so exact in detail, precise in intent. Was it Ruby?"

"It was a joke," Hook insisted, but he averted his gaze. "Just a joke."

"I'll get the truth out of him," Regina put out her hand, and he flinched away, feeling the draw of magic as she gathered it.

"No, no," David cautioned her back, "no magic here."

"There must be punishment. Punishment left unfinished can reap disastrous consequences," Regina cast a look at Mary Margaret who glared at her. "We all talk about forgiveness, but let's face it. We'd much rather see punishment enacted. Wouldn't we, Snow White?"

Mary Margaret pressed her lips together.

"All right, let's not make this about more than it has to be," David broke the tension." One, there isn't enough punishment in the world to redeem you, Regina. And two, it is just a letter. Words only have meaning if we let -"

"The wetness," Regina interrupted loudly, "of her sopping –"

"It's your choice!" David barked at Hook. "A month in prison or a flogging!"

"You wouldn't flog me, mate," Hook's gaze was beseeching. "It cuts up your back, and it's hard to clean the wounds with just one hand."

"Fine," David unlocked the cuffs and herded the pirate towards an empty cell, "a caning then. They cane in military from where I come. You can stand a caning."

"I can stand anything you try to dish out, but I'm not letting you – aw, why am I being locked up?"

"Because," David shut the cell door with a clang, "you're going to stay in there until you decide which punishment you like – a month in there or a caning now. Either way, you're forbidden from writing letters ever again."

"What, never?" Hook pushed against the bars. "I'm a lover of women – we write letters. We pour our souls onto pages and touch the heart strings of beauty with our words."

"I read the letter," David crossed his arms. "There was no touching of heart strings in there."

"I did want to touch other things," Hook admitted. "But I'm a pirate. It's what we do."

David walked over to the desk and pretended to look over papers. The two women waited, watching Hook.

Annoyance and stubbornness flashed over Hook's face. He stomped back to the cot and sat down, seething.

"He can stay here for a month, maybe two if he doesn't behave," David said, still shifting papers. "Without his hook, he's not much of a threat."

Hook looked down at his stump and then turned his gaze upon Mary Margaret. She was already melting, he could tell. Hook raised his hand to rub the back of his head ruefully, looking as pitiful as possible. She shared Emma's compassion towards hurt things.

"David," Mary Margaret sighed.

"No," he shook his head, "no wavering. You're too soft, baby. A good leader needs to be firm. I love your gentleness, but look where it leads us sometime." He angled his head towards Regina.

"Please," Regina huffed, "you children never had a chance at taking me down."

"I suppose a little jail time might be good for him," Mary Margaret said reluctantly.

"What? No!" Hook was up and at the bars in a second. "No, I'm not sitting here. I'll take the caning. And I'll write whatever filth I like. Beat me all you like, but I'll never take those words back."

"Fine," David slapped the papers on the desk. "I'll be back in a minute with a cane."

"Get it from Gold," Regina's eyes glittered with anticipation. "He'll have one to fit the job."

"No, no!" Hook slammed against the bars. "Not Gold! He'll curse it to kill me. Or cripple me at best."

"Don't be so dramatic," David went out the door.

Regina looked positively gleeful as she settled in the chair behind the desk.

"Don't look so happy," Mary Margaret scolded as she sat on the edge of the desk. "We aren't supposed to enjoy his suffering."

"Speak for yourself. He aligned himself with my mother, my mother who started all by killing the love of my life. Anyone who joins my mother should suffer."

Mary Margaret gave another sigh, one of resignation.

Hook let his head thud against the bar. "Bugger me."


	3. Act 3 - Contrition

Act 3 – Contrition

David always felt mildly crept out every time he went into Gold's shop. The older man dressed like a perfect gentleman, spoke so culturally, smiled so politely, but underneath that façade . . .

"Ah, David, how is my grandson?" Gold asked, the same question he asked every time he left town and returned.

"Henry's fine," David edged around some boxy curio with metal spikes. "I need a cane."

"You're walking fine," Gold noted. "Are you planning to be more the stately gentleman in a hat and tails?"

"Not a walking stick," David impatiently shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "A cane to, you know, thwack someone with."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Gold's face. "Ah, you've taken to beating your wife. Interesting."

"Please, I'd never lift a finger against her. Just give me a cane."

"Dear boy," Gold remained calm, "I need to know whom you plan to beat so I can give the appropriate tool. One stick will leave marks on an ogre but the same one will break the bones of a fair maiden. So who is it?"

David shifted again before confessing, "Hook."

Gold's eyes lit up, and David was reminded of the fact that Gold's wife had left him for Hook in the other world. Their feud had culminated in the death of the wife and Gold cutting off Hook's hand.

"I have just the cane for you," Gold smiled. "It will peal pieces of skin off him, flaying him as he screams for mercy. He won't be able to walk for days, maybe weeks."

"No, nothing enchanted. And this isn't torture. It's just a caning to help him remember his manners. He's had it coming for a while, but he crossed the line by writing an inappropriate letter to my wife. I'm not seeking revenge, just something to make him think twice about good manners."

"Shame. I wanted him to suffer," Gold went to a chest and opened it, revealing long trays holding long instruments folded in soft fabric. "I can recommend a thin cane that will sting more at the time or a thicker one that will bruise longer."

"I don't want to hurt him," David rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"All of them will hurt," Gold reminded him.

"You know what I mean. Something stern but not evil. He only has one hand, thanks to you."

Gold paused. "Have you ever caned a person before?"

"No."

"Ever been caned?"

"No, my parents spanked me though. That was on the farm – the king just threatened my family to make me behave." David frowned in thought. "I don't have any memories of my Storybrooke parents spanking me, but they wouldn't be real, just fake memories Regina gave us."

"There's a woman who'd do well with a caning," Gold mused.

"Not enough canes in the world, all the worlds," David scowled.

"That's another matter," Gold went on. "A leader could cane effectively, but it takes practice to wield a rod. The blows must be precise, not too hard or too soft. You have to take care not to hit the kidneys or overlap too many hits lest the skin break."

David's expression blanched and he was about to abandon the whole thing when Gold added smoothly,

"You'd be much better off with a paddle."

He lifted off the top tray and took out a long wooden paddle about three inches wide and ten inches long with curved edges. "This, my boy, will deliver punishment evenly and the edges won't bite into the skin. But it's a more childish punishment, and Hook will hate that."

"I would never hit a child with that thing. My parents just used their hands," David objected.

"Yes, but Hook doesn't know that. He could handle the pain of a caning, but the humiliation of being paddled will make him think twice before crossing you."

"Fine," David held out his hand, "how much for the weapon of humiliation?"

"To punish Hook, absolutely free. Just tell him Mila's husband sends his regards."

"All right," David huffed. Really, revenge was never-ending in this town.

"Let me rub a special protectorate on it," Gold stepped towards a cabinet of potions.

"I said nothing enchanted. That goes for curses, too."

"Not a curse. Just a little oil to make it shine and to get the miscreant to tell the truth. Surely you want honesty from all citizens here?"

"All right, but that's all."

Gold selected a tiny bottle and he dripped shiny drops on the flat side of the paddle. "I don't know why you're in such a hurry. Let the pirate sweat for a bit."

"Mary Margaret is there and she doesn't like to see people suffer. Regina's there, too, and she'll goad Hook into doing something stupid to escape. That woman is always pushing someone to the edge."

"Is this a public punishment?" Gold rubbed the wood down with a silk cloth and the polished side glinted. "Will you put him in the stocks and wallop him in the town square?"

"We have no stocks in Storybrooke and it's not public."

"Best of luck," Gold handed him the paddle and a piece of fabric to cover it. "When you're finished, kindly send Regina here to give me the juicy details."

David left without a word. He kept the paddle against his side, covered with the cloth and walked quickly.

"David," a female voice called to him.

He looked up to see Emma coming over to his side of the street.

"Oh, it's you," he sighed.

"Thanks, 'Dad'," she retorted, "it's good to see you as well. Is that a paddle? Please tell me you and Mary Margaret didn't read that book, too."

"What book?"

"Never mind," Emma colored. "What are you doing?"

David frowned as he paused. "I'm . . . about to . . . use this on Hook. He wrote this really obscene letter to your mother all about the dirty things he had done to her and I'm not standing for it, Emma. I have to protect my family and sometimes that means challenging a man to a duel and sometimes that means delivering a caning."

"But you're not holding a cane."

"Sometimes Gold talks you into using different implements. Just let me go and do this before I get talked into how ridiculous it is."

Emma smiled half-heartedly. "The letter was to me, probably. It must have been delivered to her by mistake. It was just a joke," she hurried on at the expression on her father's face. "Hook and I have taken to – to writing letters to each other for fun. Everyone is this town is so lovey-dovey over each other – you and Mary Margaret, Gold and Belle . . . other people probably. So Hook and I just pretended to be all crazy for each other."

"But Emma, it was so obscene."

"That's Hook for you," she waved his concern away. "He's always got to push the envelope too far. I'll talk to him and tell him it wasn't good."

"He had a child deliver the letter to the diner, asking for the prettiest girl there. A child held that letter and who knows what woman could have found it."

"It was wrong," Emma assured him. "I'll tell him. Where is he?"

"In a jail cell."

She shook her head as she turned in the direction of the jail cell. "Only you, Prince Charming, would lock a pirate up for that."

The moment they went into the jail cell, David felt a pulse of magic in the paddle but then it lay still in his hand so he didn't mind setting it on the desk.

Hook was against the bars. "Emma? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to tell them the truth about the letter. It was silly little -"

"Fine!" he burst out. "I did it. I bedded her, your precious savior. But she seduced me. I was in my room, having a wash and maybe enjoying fun with the soap a little too much, but that's all! She picked the lock and stripped for me like a two-bit whore in a sailor's brothel. And she had those condoms things in her wallet. We used all four of them and the fifth time, I used my tongue! And she liked it so I wrote her the letter to describe it all and dear goddess, why can't I stop talking?"

"Gold enhanced the paddle to force you to tell the truth," David said numbly.

"Why do these things always happen to me?" Hook leaned his head against the bar, and Emma thought her face would burst into flames. He was so adorable in distress; she wanted to kiss him right there in the cell.

"You slept with him?" Mary Margaret looked aghast at her daughter.

"Actually we didn't sleep. But I did bed her though we were only on the bed once. She was on her knees once too. For pity's sake, mate, cut my tongue out already!"

"Enough out of you," David came to his daughter, ignoring Regina who wore a Cheshire Cat grin. "Emma, are you alright? Did he force himself on you?"

"No," she confessed, "it was just like he said. I just wanted to be bad for a change."

"What about Neal?" Mary Margaret asked softly.

"I don't know," tears filled Emma's eyes. "I was so confused. Poor Neal, but Hook is – I don't know. I really don't know. I'm sorry the letter upset you. Hook's an idiot sometimes."

"That's true," the pirate admitted. "Ah, let me out. I clearly had no obscene intent. I just love Emma."

The room fell silent at his admission.

"This love-in is getting on my nerves," Regina finally spoke up. "Are you going to beat him or not?"

David hesitated, but Mary Margaret frowned in thought and then said, "Ask Hook if he thinks he deserves a punishment."

"No!" Hook frantically shook his head. "Don't do that. Ask me about my past. I'll tell you any secret you want to know."

David approached the cell. "Hook or should I say Killian –"

"No, mate, for the love of everything holy, don't make me answer that question."

"Do you –"

"Not in front of the women. I can't bear that. Anything else!"

"Do you deserve to be punished?"

"Of course I deserve it," Hook burst out. "I've been a right cad and any father has the right to blister my hide."

"Do I have the right?" David tried to keep his face serious, but it was enjoyable to see the cocky pirate sweat just a little.

"Yes, you have the right. If not you, who else? I've tricked you, lied to you, stolen from you, and I would bed your wife just as quickly if she'd let me."

Hook's eyes widened in horror and he clamped his hand over his mouth.

"No more talking," David took mercy on him as he unlocked the cell door. "Come out and bend over the desk."

"Resist – I dare you," Regina smiled. "I'm dying to use magic to keep you still."

Hook glared at her, but he went to the table and took his coat off. He gave Emma a pleading look before bending over the desk.

"Should the girls leave?" David picked up the paddle.

"No, it will make my punishment more memorable," Hook confessed. His head dropped in despair.

David took pity on him and took the first swat.

Emma felt herself grow warm at the sight of the shudder which racked Hook's body, but he pressed his lips together, refusing to make a sound.

"You're going to take this paddling," David swatted him again and then again, "and it will make you less . . . you."

"David," Mary Margaret objected.

"Less piratey then. Less insufferable and less likely to write pornographic letters. Or keep them to emails from now on."

The swatting continued and Hook squirmed slightly. The flashes of pain that contorted his face made Emma squirm inside, and she thought she might faint from embarrassment at the sight of her father who was really her own age spanking her lover, again their same age. And there was something dark and delicious about soothing Hook when he was in pain, once all the ego and pride was gone. The few moments he had been vulnerable and open, those blue eyes wide with need – oh, she wanted him more than ever.

Emma crossed her arms, desperate to mask her feelings. She was still sore, and now Hook would be sore, and why couldn't watchful parents and evil queens just go away so she and her pirate could comfort each other.

"Ow!" Hook hissed at one blow.

"Too hard?" David paused.

"No, it's not too hard, but I don't like being spanked! It stings and it's embarrassing and now I'm complaining and I don't like you and I hate Gold."

"But you don't hate me?" David tried to keep a stern face.

"No, you're a good man and a strong mate. I'm just frustrated that you're smacking me like a child."

"It's good to know that truth potion works," David ran his hand over the paddle. "Might be useful on other people." He looked at Regina.

"You use that one me and it'll be the last thing you do," she smiled, hands on her hips. "I'll take your heart out and ruin your life before crushing it. Is that enough truthfulness for you?"

"One punishment at a time," Mary Margaret said. "How many more is he getting?"

"Oh, I don't know," David smirked. "Hook, how many more do you think –"

"Mate, please!" the pirate wailed.

David swatted him a good dozen more times, and Hook hissed with each blow. On the last few, David was sure he was swearing, but he didn't comment on the language.

"There," David put the paddle down on the desk. He put a hand on Hook's shoulder to help him up. "We're done. Do you want to apologize to the ladies?"

"No, but I'll do it to keep from getting more," Hook straightened. His eyes were glassy and his cheeks flushed red and his lips trembled but his stance was straight. "I'm sorry, Emma. I'm sorry, Mary Margaret. Regina, I'm only sorry you're in the room and for the taunts you'll give me later."

"Please Killian," she rolled her eyes, "I've got bigger fish to fry. Your disgrace was a pleasing diversion for a morning, but other than that I'm glad you suffered. That's what you get for teaming up with my mother."

"I'd forgotten about her," Hook confessed.

Emma stepped towards him, planning to hug him, but David cleared his voice sternly so she settled for smiling warmly at him.

"You took that really well," Mary Margaret said, looking like she would like to hug him also. She glanced at the desk where the incriminating letter lay. She shook her head and moved to her husband, leaning against him and wrapping her arm around his waist.

"Can I go?" Hook asked, still blinking back tears.

"Yes, but behave yourself," David said.

He left, and Emma looked at her parents. "That wasn't necessary. Well, not all of it. Hook and I are adults. Kind of. I don't know."

They both looked like they wanted to go into parent-mode and warn her about the dangers of riding in cars with boys and that was about fifteen years too late.

She finally made excuses to go, slipping the letter out with her when they weren't looking.

Back at the inn, Hook climbed to his room shakily. He tossed his coat aside and stripped off his shoes and clothes, down to his shorts.

He couldn't decide if it would be better to rub the sting out or just ignore it. He had no rum in the room or he would have gulped it all down to alleviate the pain.

The spanking had been awful, but admitting the truth had felt terrible too. Sort of. In a way, it had been a relief from the guilt he felt occasionally, guilt so hard he chose the bottom of a bottle to drown his feelings. Ugh, he hated feeling things. It brought back the agony he felt over his brother's death and the hurt over losing Mila.

He lay on the bed on his side and felt the tears fill up his eyes. He hated them for being a family and he wanted his own family. He was so tired of being on the outside, looking in on others' happiness.

"Bloody hell," he swiped at his tears. "Bugger this."

"I thought you were going to behave," Emma's voice said from the doorway.

He sat up to see her standing there with a sympathetic look. "You didn't lock the door," she said.

"Other things on my mind," he sat up, grimacing.

"Oh, Killian," she shut the door, "whatever am I going to do with you?"

She went to him, putting a hand on his dark, sweaty hair, and he put a hand on her hip, drawing her near.

"You smell nice," he nuzzled his face in her stomach and she twitched at the ticklish sensation.

"You are so bad. I just watched my father spank you with an enchanted paddle and all you can say is that I smell nice?"

"I'm choosing to focus on the positive," he tugged her down on the bed.

"We're both sore now," she smiled wickedly. "But if you ever write a letter like this," she held up the incriminating paper, "I'll go to Gold for my own paddle."

"I told that boy to give it to the prettiest, most beautiful maiden in the land," Hook took it from her grasp. "How could he have been so blind?"

"I don't know," she giggled as she shrugged off her jeans. "Do you want me to rub your soreness away until you're all bad boy again?"

He responded by kissing her hard, and she felt the heat of his rear as she drew her hand down to grope back there. He groaned in pain, and she lay back on the bed, wrapping her legs around to hook the back of his knees as he sprawled her.

"Well," she teased, "we'll call this Fifty Degrees of Hook, measuring just how warm your cute bottom can get."

His wry expression was enough for her to hug him tight and pepper his face with kisses until he settled back into making out with her.

And if they reenacted some of the dirty acts in the letter, they would be sure not to let Mary Margaret or David know.

The End


End file.

Once Upon a Time, Hurt-Comfort, Romance