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Hook and the Mermaid	By : HerverusGrape Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 5297 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
HATM5
Chapter 5
Sometimes Things Look Different in the Morning

She started and rose to a seated position, her hands flying out to grasp the sides of the tank. But instead of reaching out to push him away, which had been her first impulse, she found herself frozen in position, her eyes fascinated by the sight of his form in the bright sunlight. His brunette hair, which had been sedately combed last evening, was now a riotous mass of waves that swirled about his face and cascaded down his shoulders. His features were still handsomely ,chiseled but beneath the clear, cool blue of his eyes, there was a delicate shading of brown stubble upon his cheeks, chin and neck which had not been there the night before. Allowing her eyes to travel downward, the bright colors and the intricate designs of his myriad tattoos momentarily caught her gaze, but she found herself even more intrigued by the sight of his bare torso and upper arms.
Although he was a thin man, his chest was sturdy and strong, a sinewy strength evident under the taut skin. It was quite a contrast to the spindly, ghostly pale chests of the mermen, she thought. And unlike the smooth, bronzed torsos of the Indian braves, a downy coating of dark, curly hair covered his chest. It was concentrated mostly upon his upper body, growing in a thick patch in the very middle before fanning out to the sides and swirling around his nipples before it thinned and disappeared. Right above his navel, the hair became more sparse, allowing a clearer view of the ridge of muscles upon his lower abdomen. But below this, another thin line of silky, sable-colored hair sprouted and she followed it downward with her eyes until it disappeared beneath the waistline of his britches. Hurriedly raising her eyes upward again, she turned her gaze to his left arm, noting that th thick, curly hair grew abundantly upon his forearm as well, even extending down onto the hand which was resting gently against the top of the tank's glass wall. She felt a curious desire to reach out with her own hand and stroke her fingers against the dark, wavy fuzz, to see for herself if it was as soft and velvety as it appeared. Feeling strangely confused and nervous, she forced herself to look away. Turning her head to the left, her mouth opened in surprise as she focused on the sight of his abruptly amputated arm.
She curiously eyed the stump, noting the mixture of pink and white upon the healed scar and the ridges and bumps above it. The skin was stretched especially tight over two knobs which were obviously the ends of the bones where his wrist had been so violently severed from the rest of his body.
For a moment, she thought back to all the times Peter Pan had boasted to the mermaids that he was the one responsible for Hook losing his hand. hand in a duel. She had always thought that he was vain, foolish braggart, but now there was a part of her that began to actively hate the boy. Not that she had any illusions about Hook hesitating to kill Pan if given even the slightest chance. But to wound, to scar or even to kill an opponent during a fight was one thing. It was something entirely else to hack off part of another person's body-whether it had been intentional or accidental-and to to be proud of the fact that you had done so.
At the same time, a sudden blush of shame came to her own cheeks as she realized that she had been most rudely staring at his arm for quite some time. Taking in a deep breath, she cautiously raised her eyes to Hook's face, fully expecting that he would be glaring back down at her in a furious rage. Instead, she was stunned to see that his eyes were closed, his mouth set in a strange grimace as he sucked in air through his clenched teeth. He took a step backward from the tank and lifted his left hand to his stump, beginning to vigorously scratch the scarred area. He murmured a small cry of frustration, and increased the speed and intensity of the scraping, apparently finding little respite from his torment.
A few moments ago, she had barely been able to resist the temptation to run her fingers over his hair-covered body. Now she felt her fingers twitching spasmodically against the glass walls as she fought back the desirereacreach out and draw her own sharp fingernails against his flesh in an attempt to relieve his obvious agony. Finally, she was unable to control the impulse and stretched out her hand, intending to offer her help.
But even as her arm rose into the air, Hook suddenly cursed under his breath and dropped his hand away from the stump. Pivoting away from her and walking swiftly towards the desk, he picked up the rum and took a large swallow, his fingers clenched tightly around the neck of the bottle as if commanding them to remain there instead of returning to the truncated limb. After more than a minute of absolute silence, she saw that his fingers were very slowly relaxing and releasing their grip, and heard him breathe out a deep, relieved sigh. Still turned away from her, he pulled himself to his full height and determinedly straightened his shoulders. Turning to his right, he marched over to his abandoned hook and its attached harness and picked it up from the floor. He worked it over his right forearm easily, but it took him several tries to throw one end of the strap over his shoulder and catch it with his one hand, and she saw a few beads of sweat form on his brow as he concentrated on pulling it through the buckle and securing it tightly. Only then did he raise his eyes to meet hers, and she was surprised to see that his expression was once more proud and haughty.
"So..." he said, slowly advancing upon her once more.
She dropped her eyes and gripped the sides of the tank, feeling her heart begin to beat wildly within her chest as she fought off the absurd notion to suddenly dive back into the water and submerge herself. As if that would somehow protect her, she chided herself. It would be as stupid and ineffective as when the Neverland ostriches thought to hide themselves from their pursuers by plunging their heads into the sand.
But Hook walked past the tank, striding to the table that sat next to the bed, and opening a large leather box sat sat upon it. He deftly unscrewed the hook from the cuff and placed it back within the box and then reached out and removed his usual large claw from its frame within the case. Placing it into position, he walked over to where his shirt was still hanging from the bedpost. Purposefully holding the large silver hook so that the sunlight was glinting upon it, he began to carefully polish the surface by blowing his warm breath upon it, and then wiping off the moisture with the soft, white linen.
"Still pouting are we?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he sauntered back towards the desk, leaning over to pick up an apple in his left hand.
"Do you really expect me to be happy, being kept here in a cage?" she asked quietly, finding herself slightly annoyed that, despite her best efforts, there was a tiny quaver in her voice.
Hook laughed quietly and shrugged his shoulders. "I should think," he said, turning back to regard her with an expression of wide-eyed innocence, "That after seeing the look upon the faces of my men last night that you would be very grateful that there is a large padlock and strong walls protecting you from them."
Fee dropped her eyes again and searched for something to say, other than the obvious protest that he was the only man on board the ship whom she truly had to fear at the moment. But she lifted her head as a sudden, strangely squelchy sound reverberated through the room.
With a satisfied smile upon his face, Hook lifted his right arm to show that the large, succulent apple was now skewered upon his claw. He lifted the luscious, ripe fruit to his mouth, and there was a loud, tantalizing crunch as he bit into the firm flesh.
In response, Fee's stomach gave a noisy, complaining growl. If she had slept little the day before, she had eaten even less, and she could not deny that her stomach felt distressingly empty.
Hook chewed the fruit carefully, murmuring his approval of the flavor before finally swallowing it. "My dear Fiona, you will recall that I did offer to share my supper with you last night," he said, his smile widening even more as he watched her eyes ravenously follow a dab of juice dripping down from the corner of his mouth. "But you were...distressingly truculent," he clucked, slowly beginning to move toward her. "Are you feeling a bit more compliant this morning?"
He watched as she tried very hard not to tremble, knowing she was fighting the impulse to shrink away from him. He stopped about a foot away from the tank, holding the skewered apple against his chest.
"What do I have to do?" she asked, so softly that he could hardly hear her.
"All you have to do," he answered, his voice calm and soothing, "Is eat this apple."
For a moment she continued to stare at him, clearly skeptical that he would really allow her to eat without demanding some kind of submission to his will. Then her stomach gave out another voracious rumble, and she took a deep swallow and cautiously held out her right hand.
"No-" he sneered, holding the apple out to the side and away from her grasp. "I'm afraid I must insist that you eat it, as I did, from my hook."
She blinked at him in surprise. "You're not serious!" she gasped, finally.
"Oh, very serious, my dear," he replied, idly waving the apple beneath his nose and sniffing appreciatively. There was another crunch as he took another large bite of the fruit. "You complained last night that I was using the wrong bait upon it," he said, his mouth still full. He paused to swallow and then a broad smirk appeared on his face. "Indeed, perhaps for an innocent little soul as yourself, a simple fruit is a much more or a temptation than a frivolous jewel," he said, bending down and holding the apple in front of her face.
She was balanced on the end of her tail, both hands tightly gripping the glass wall as her eyes darted back and forth from his face to the apple.
"And such a delicious apple it is. It would be such a shame to throw it away," he sighed, shaking his head sadly. "But since you are obviously not very hungry, I might as well send all of this lovely fruit to your friends in the lagoon. And perhaps in a day or two, you will be a bit more sociable."
Just as he began to draw away from her, she wet her lips and spoke.
"Do you promise not to hurt me?" she asked.
"Really, Fiona," he tsked, waving his still-bandaged finger in front of her eyes. "You are the one who injured me last night. But I am willing to forgive and forget," he assured her, bringing the apple closer to her mouth. "As long as you do not bite or scratch me while you eat, you will remain safe from my hook," he promised.
She narrowed her eyes. "Do you promise not to touch me?" she challenged.
He studied her for a moment, a curious expression crossing his face before it was replaced with an indulgent smile. "I promise not to touch you while you are eating," he answered smoothly.
She chewed thoughtfully upon her lip as her stomach growled noisily once more. He answer obviously meant that he at some point he would no longer feel constrained to honor her request, but it seemed the best bargain she could manage at the moment. She leaned over the glass wall and slowly bent her head toward the apple. Hook took a step nearer to the tank, but at the same time drew his left arm behind his back as if to assure her he would keep his promise. Fee hesitated for a moment and then, just as Hook had done, breathed in deeply through her nose. He saw a slight flush of color upon her cheeks, and then she closed her eyes and took a small bite of the apple.
"Umm," she murmured, obviously pleased with the flavor. Her mouth opened wider as she returned for another bite.
She kept her eyes closed as he slowly rotated his arm, allowing her easy access to the firm yellow flesh while keeping the sharpened tip away from her face and carefully making sure that she did not bite down upon the hook. He, on the other hand, kept his eyes wide open, staring down at her and relishing the chance to study her at such close range.
He had awakened that morning with a splitting headache and a sour stomach. It had taken him a moment to recall just why he had been enraged enough to drink himself into a stupor the night before. But as the early morning sun glinted off of the tank, he had found his memory immediately refreshed. Throwing off the bedcovers, he had hauled himself out of bed, quite prepared to force himself upon his recalcitrant guest. And since his head was not the only part of his anatomy that had awakened feeling quite thick and pounding this morning, he had no doubt that he would accomplish his objective in short order.
There had been a sly smile upon his face as he carefully fit the key into the lock and slowly lifted up the lid. He intended to catch her by surprise, and had been quite looking forward the shocked expression on her face as he raised her from the tank and threw her onto the bed. Instead, though, he had found himself taken aback by how young and fragile she had looked, sleeping there huddled against the corner of the tank, her arms wrapped protectively around her. Even as a part of his mind urged him that she was an arrogant little chit who needed to be taught a lesson, he had found himself hesitating.
Then she had opened her eyes and he had forced a neutral expression onto his face, his mind and body still warring over whether or not he should simply force himself upon her.
Though she had been obviously shocked to see him standing beside her, it had taken only a few moments before the fear in her eyes had been surprisingly replaced by a spark of keen interest. As she sat up and silently scrutinized him, it had suddenly occurred to Hook that to her eyes his body was just as foreign and exotic as her form was to his.
Never one to be overly modest, he had stood straight and tall, his stomach muscles clenched tightly as her eyes slowly ran down the length of his body. She had seemed fairly fascinated by his torso, and though he couldn't be quite sure, he thought she just might have caught a glimpse of the bulge in his trousers before she hastily raised her eyes back up above his waist.
It was only then that he suddenly realized that, in his haste, he had neglected to don his hook and harness. As her gaze fell upon his amputation his heart had given a most curious flutter. Smee was the only one whom he had ever willingly allowed to gaze upon that abominable sight. He expected her to cry out in horror and throw her hands over her eyes. Instead, he was astounded to see her regard his mutilated flesh with a frank curiosity that seemed to be immediately replaced by a solemn sadness.
And then the damned thing had begun to itch, and he had hastily retreated, his mortification effectively eradicating any trace of his previous arousal. By the time he had recaptured his composure, his desire for retaliation had returned as well. He had offered her the apple with the full expectation that she would summarily refuse his degrading bargain. He had been surprised by her easy capitulation and then irked that she had the temerity to request that he not touch her.
In the end though, he had decided to indulge her, telling himself that he was merely doing so in order to lure her into letting down her guard. But now he was strangely content to merely watch her as she devoured the succulent fruit, watching the dainty way she nibbled at the apple with those strong white teeth that were only marginally longer and sharper than his own. Certainly there was nothing extraordinarily alien about her face, and he was even now beginning to wonder just what it would feel like to have that pink little tongue of hers slide along his own flesh, or to feel her plump, rosy lips slide over his mouth-or other parts of his body, for that matter.
Still, he managed to keep his voice steady and slightly disdainful as he abruptly drew his hand away.
"There is no need to eat the core," he chided. "Unless you mermaids consider it a special treat?" he asked.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Fee shook her head and drew away from him.
"You may have another," he said, frowning down at his hook as he pried off the remains of the apple.
"Thank you," she said, quite softly and sweetly.
Hook frowned down at her, suspicious that she was being facetious. But she appeared to be quite sincere.
"But not quite yet," he warned her as he expertly pitched the core into the trash bin.
"What do I have to do now?" she asked.
Unlike their previous conversation, where she had defiantly met his gaze, she was keeping her eyes focused upon the floor.
"Something rather distasteful, but necessary," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. "You will notice," he said, pointing toward one corner of the tank, "The hoses that are attached here?"
Her eyes moved in the direction of his finger and she nodded her head.
"They are the means by which the sea water can be drained and replenished," he explained.
"I see," she said, slowly. For a moment, she submerged her head beneath the water and perused the apparatus with some interest. "It's very ingenious," she said, after she had resurfaced.
"Thank you," he said, throwing her a short, ironic bow. Actually, the whole contraption had actually been Gallagher's idea, but Hook saw no need to inform her of that at the moment. Hook reached out and turned the knob on one of the hoses, and the water began to quickly drain out of the tank. When there was only a few inches left, he turned the knob to the other side and spoke to Fee again. "But although your tank will be refilled every day, I do hope that you will take care not to sully it, my dear?"
She tilted her head to the side and appeared to be quite puzzled.
"I am inquiring, dear pet, as to whether or not your are housebroken," he elaborated, his own embarrassment over the subject causing him to act even more superciliously than usual.
But his sarcasm was lost upon its intended target, for she merely looked more baffled than before.
"You are able to use a chamber pot?" he inquired, beginning to sound quite exasperated.
Judging from the blank expression upon her face, he gathered he might as well have been jabbering away in a Greek
"Here!" he said, turning toward his bed, and reaching down to pick up the chamber potfrom the floor. Like most everything that Hook owned, it was rather ornate and grand, fashioned from a particularly fine grade of bone china and adorned with a hand-painted pastoral scene of a rather fanciful design. Striding back to the tank, he thrust it into her hands.
To his consternation, she still looked mystified as to what she was supposed to do with it.
"It is to relieve yourself," he hissed.
"Relieve myself of what?" she asked, honestly perplexed.
"Of your...your...bodily fluids, you silly girl!"
Dear God, was she being willfully obtuse just to spite him?
They stood staring at each other for a moment, Fee still clutching the champer pot within her slightly trembling hands as she struggled to understand what he wanted.
Well, to hell with it, he thought. Apparently she required a visual demonstration, and with all the liquids he had consumed the night before, his bladder was certainly more than full at the moment.
He muttered an oath and dropped his hand to his britches and began unbuttoning the fly. A few seconds later, his trousers were down around his ankles and he reached out to grab the vessel back from her. With an air of studied indifference, he looped his hook through the arm of the pot and held it in place as he used his left hand to guide himself. The sound of the fluid splashing against the china sides seemed abnormally loud to his ears, but he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, never once glancing back up at Fee. Finishing as rapidly as he could, he placed the chamber pot on the floor, hoisted up his trousers and swiftly rebuttoned his fly. Picking up the jug, he stomped over to the window and threw the contents over the side and then turned back to pick up a pitcher of water from a nearby shelf. Sloshing a generous amount into the vessel, he swirled it around the pot and then heaved the swill through the portal as well before stalking back toward the tank.
"I trust," he said huffily, "That you now understand what is required of you?"
Fee's cheeks were flushed, but not quite as red as he had anticipated they would be. Without a word, she accepted the pot from his hands, turned away and balanced upon her tail in a position that was rather like kneeling-although, of course, mermaids have no knees.
With a loud harrumph, Hook stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. Although he could not see exactly what she was doing, he could tell that she was holding the pot in front of her and from the sounds he heard he could assure himself that somehow, in someway, mermaids did indeed 'pass water' as humans did. After the sound had stopped, she paused for several seconds before turning back to him, but as she did so he could tell that the double row of fins which graced the front of her lower abdomen were still slowly folding against each other.
Well, that seemed to solve one mystery.
Apparently, mermaids' privates were modestly hidden underneath a curtain of intricately connected fins. He pondered for a moment whether that reminded him more of the heavily-veiled women of the East or the lock-kneed virgins of London, before realizing tshe she was patiently holding the pot out to him. Taking it from her hands, he repeated the dumping and cleaning procedure, stopping to place the pot beside the bed again before turning back to regard her.
Clearing his throat, he mumbled: "Of course, the pot is also used for other...necessities."
"Yes, I understand," she replied, moving to seat herself in the water again. "You needn't perform another demonstration," she added.
Hook shot her a quick glance. Although her eyelids were demurely lowered again, he wondered if he didn't see just the hint of a grin around the corners of her mouth.
Damn it, he thought to himself, as he reached over and wrenched open the knob on the other hose that admitted a heavy stream of water into the tank. So far, after managing to capture her, nothing had gone quite as he had planned. He was not quite sure if he was more upset by her stubborn behavior the night before or her surprising capitulation this morning, but either way, he felt distressingly ooff kilter today. Not that his hangover was helping either his composure or equilibrium.
It came as a relief to hear a low knock upon the door and Smee's voice timidly whispering, "Captain?"
"Yes?" he snarled, shutting off the water. "What is it, Smee?" he asked, as he unlocked the door and shoved it open.
"Oh, Captain, you're up!" chirped Smee, merrily.
"Obviously," was the grouchy retort.
"Well, I thought that you might have slept a bit later this morning," Smee explained amiably, entering the cabin with a large tray laden with serving dishes and plates.
Hook made no reply, but instead concentrated on selecting a new shirt from the assortment that hung on pegs on the wall. The inference was that clearly Smee and the other pirates believed that he had spent the night in wild debauchery with his new concubine, and Hook was in no hurry to disillusion them of that misconception.
Smee busied himself removing the plates from the night before and placing the new ones on the desk. When he came to the broken shell glass and plate of apple slices, discolored and untouched, with some spilled over onto the desk, a puzzled frown knit his brow for a moment. But, shrugging his shoulders, he cleaned them all up and then turned to face Fee.
"I see you're looking well this morning, Miss?"
Hook paused in the buttoning of his shirt (not the easiest thing to do when using one hand and one hook, I might add), and glanced at her also. Rather to his surprise, she did indeed look quite well. The forlorn, pale wretch that had been curled up in sleep when he first beheld this morning had somehow been replaced by a quietly confident creature of uncommon beauty. Even her skin had seemed to have taken on a rosy glow.
"I'm afraid, I didn't catch your name though," added Smee, apologetically.
"Her name is Fiona," Hook said loudly, tucking in the ends of his shirt.
"No, my name is Fee," she corrected, quietly.
With a low growl, Hook turned to her with a scowl upon his face. However she might act towards him when they were alone, he had absolutely no intention of allowing her to defy him in front of any member of his crew-not even Smee.
But before he could rebuke her, she calmly continued: "Fiona is the special name the Captain has given me, and only he can use it."
"Oh," said Smee, glancing nervously between the mermaid and his superior. There was obviously something rather strange going on between the two and, contrary to popular opinion, Smee was not really simple-minded. He was merely exceedingly cautious and had discovered a long time ago that it was often best to appear to be oblivious to his captain's caustic manner and wild mood swings. "I'll just continue to call you Miss, then," he offered, not wanting to insult either one of them.
Clearing his throat, he smiled vaguely around the room before continuing. "Is there some other food you would be wanting?" he asked.
"Could you bring me some seaweed?" she asked quietly.
"Oh," he said, somewhat surprised. "I suppose I could get some."
"Of course you may have some seaweed, my dear," interrupted Hook, drawing near the tank once more. "I'll be very happy to send out some men to collect some today and you may feast to your heart's delight upon it."
He paused and drew his eyes upward, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully for a moment before continuing. Turning away, he strode towards the desk and sat down upon his chair. "Provided, of course, that you have behaved yourself in the meantime," he finished smoothly as he began to help himself to the breakfast items that the first mate had brought.
"Is there anything else?" began Smee, cautiously directing his question to the air without glancing in either Fee or Hook's direction.
"No, you may leave, Smee," muttered the Captain, placing his napkin upon his lap. "But I'll expect you back within the half hour to remove the dishes."
"Aye, aye, sir," answered Smee, smiling broadly and seeming very relieved to make a quick departure from the room.
After the door closed behind him, Hook concentrated on pouring out a small amount of milk into his teacup, followed by a large measure of tea. Stirring in a spoonful of honey, he raised the cup to his lips. As he sipped, he looked across the room and was rather surprised to see that Fee was sitting quietly by the side of the tank, her elbows propped up against the top of the glass walls.
"You said I could have another apple after I used the chamber pot," she reminded him quietly.
"So, I did," he said, carefully placing the teacup back down upon its saucer. Removing the cover from his tray, he paused to stir a generous helping of sugar and milk into one of the bowls. Pushing his chair back, he rose to his feet, carrying the bowl in his hand and his napkin on his hook. "Although I do think it is best that you try to acclimate yourself to other foods as well," he said, drawing near the tank.
He held the bowl in front of her face and after a moment's hesitation, she wrapped her fingers around the spoon. Obviously mermaids were not used to such utensils, for her grasp was more than a bit unsteady as she brought it towards her mouth.
"Wait!" said Hook.
Fee looked up at him, a puzzled expression upon her face.
"It is a bit hot yet," he explained, bending down and pursing his lips to blow a cooling breathe across the steaming spoonful. By doing so, he placed his face within a few inches of her own, and was pleasantly surprised to see that she did not shy away. "Now you may try it," he said, drawing back to his full height.
Fee's tongue flicked out of her mouth and she frowned slightly as it touched the off-white, lumpy blob. But she opened her mouth and took in the whole spoonful. After a few moments, however, her expression turned into a shocked grimace and with a laugh Hook reached out and placed the napkin in front of her mouth.
"Well, spit it out if it's that disagreeable," he urged.
Fee hastily complied.
"That's disgusting," she muttered, cupping her hand and bringing a mouthful of the sea water to her lips in an apparent attempt to rinse her mouth out.
"My Scottish ancestors would be quite enraged to hear you disparage their oatmeal," he said, turning around and striding back towards the desk. "But, I agree it is an acquired taste." Placing the used napkin to the side, he picked up a plate and arranged several items upon it, pausing at the last moment to spread some orange marmalade upon the toast. "Let us see if you find any of these more palatable," he said, approaching the tank again.
He held out the plate and Fee cautiously reached out to grasp the spoon. She tried her best to scoop up some of the eggs, but their soft, spongy texture and her unfamiliarity with the utensil did not make the task easy. Hook clucked his tongue as a few fragments slid over the side of the plate onto the floor.
"Very well, then," he said, shaking his head, "I suppose you must hold the plate while I feed you," he scolded.
Fee held out her hands to take the plate and then opened her mouth obediently to take the small spoonful of food that the Captain was holding in front of her. She chewed the eggs very slowly but managed to swallow them down.
"More?" he asked, holding out another spoonful.
"No thank you," she said, screwing up her mouth slightly.
"My, we are being hard to please this morning, aren't we?" he said, using the fork to spear a large sausage. To his surprise, Fee looked rather appalled and drew hastily away as he brought it up to her lips. Shrugging his shoulders, he chomped down upon it himself, noting that Fee was watching his every move with a great deal of fascination. A rather wicked gleam came to his eyes as he brought the banger to his mouth again, this time allowing his lips to slide appreciatively along the exterior of the large shaft before he took his bite. From the slight reddening of her cheeks, he had absolutely no doubt that she was quite aware of the sexual suggestiveness of the gesture. His delight in eliciting such a response in her was immediately tempered by the thought that it undoubtedly proved that she was hardly as innocent and inexperienced as she had looked in her slumber, and he found himself wondering yet again just exactly what mermen looked like and where they lived.
Pushing that thought aside, he laid the fork down upon the plate and reached out to pick up a piece of the toast slathered with marmalade. After taking one cautious sniff, she opened her mouth to take a small nibble. Her lips immediately curled into a smile, and she gulped it down quickly and then eagerly opened her mouth for more.
"Ah, it appears we have found at least one item that satisfies you," he said, taking back the plate from her hand as she reached out to accept the toast from him.
He turned and made his way back towards the desk. Selecting another plate, he placed the rest of the toast upon it, spooning out more marmalade onto some of the slices and strawberry preserves upon the remainder. Seizing another apple from the bowl, he quickly sliced it into pieces and arranged them upon the e ase as well. Fee had already finished the first piece by the time he returned to the tank. Carefully balancing the plate upon the corner of the tank, he handed her a fresh napkin and then went back to seat himself at the desk and partake of his own breakfast.
Perhaps it was the relish with which she was attacking the food on her own plate, but Hook found himself suddenly ravenous, wolfing down the eggs, sausages and oatmeal and thelpinlping himself to more.
"What is it you are drinking?" she asked, as he was draining his cup.
"It is tea, my dear, would you like to try some?" he said, rising to his feet and pouring out a fresh cup. He stirred in milk and honey, and then brought it over to her. She seemed to like the fragrance of the tea, but she seemed quite surprised by the taste when he brought the cup to her lips.
"Why you drink it so warm?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together as she rubbed her fingers against her throat, almost as if it had been scalded by the rather tepid liquid..
"It is meant to be drunk that way," he protested, at the same time thinking to himself that of course mermaids had no way of heating their own victuals.
She demurred to try it again, but Hook returned to the desk and brought back a small glass of ge jge juice. This was much more to her liking, and she quaffed own own in a few short gulps. Handing the empty glass back to him, she continued to dine upon the apple slices and toast, eating slowly and chewing daintily while Hook contented himself with sipping at the tea.
A few minutes later there was another knock upon the door, and Smee cautiously entered the room. The atmosphere seemed much more congenial now, and he even blushed as he collected the plate from Fee and she graciously thanked him for the food.
It was not in Hook's nature to thank anyone, of course. He merely gazed out imperiously and impassively as the man scurried around the room. But when Smee asked if he could be of any further service, Hook's eyebrows rose into the air and he haughtily informed him that, of course, he would be wanting his morning shave as usual.
For a moment Smee looked rather startled, for the Captain usually only shaved every second or third day. But he wisely refrained from uttering that observation aloud, and concentrated on gathering up the necessary supplies as Hook loosened his shirt collar and pushed his large, throne like chair away from the desk. Fee watched, seemingly mesmerized as Smee applied the thick, white lather to Hook's face and used a straight razor to shave the stubble from his cheeks and neck. The first mate finished his task quickly and finished by uncorking a bottle of some kind of perfumed liquid, which he poured into his palms and rubbed over the Captain's freshly-shaven skin. Standing up, Hook peered into a mirror and nodded his approval, pausing to run a brush hurriedly through his brown curls before bending down so that Smee could place the hat on top of his head.
Holding out his arms behind him, he indicated that Smee should help him into his coat. Unlike his wardrobe of the previous evening-a white shirt and blue coat, he was attireday day completely in black, the only exception being his brightly colored hat. The dark monotony of his attire was deliberately chosen, for it not only accentuated the height and thinness of his frame, but also served to underscore a general impression of menace which Hook found indispensable in keeping his crew suitably servile. Turning around to face Fee, he studied the expression on her face and found his heart sinking slightly as he saw that she seemed much less impressed with his appearance than he might have hoped. And then the thought struck him that she appeared to be much less afraid and infinitely more interested in him when he was partially undressed-a very intriguing hypothesis that, unfortunately, he had no time to test at the moment.
"I am afraid, my dear," he said, doffing his hat and bowing down before her. "That I must leave you for a while. I am afraid that there are many duties which, as captain of this vessel, will keep me quite busy for the remainder of the day."
Fee nodded and then took in a quick gasp of breath as she saw him replace the hat and then reach into his pockets and remove his keys.
"Oh, please," she said, as he stepped nearer to the tank and grasped the heavy wooden lid. "You really don't need to lock me in this case."
"Really," he said, lifting his eyebrows in disbelief.
"There's no way I can escape from the ship," she pleaded. "And even if I did, the mermaids would return me to you."
"That's quite possibly true," he said, tilting his head to the side. "But, unfortunately, they would also demand more ransom as well. And while it was ra ent entertaining to bargain with them last night, I do not intend to make it a habit. Besides," he said, impatiently waving his hand, "I've already mentioned that you must be kept safe from my men as well."
"The locks on the door should be enough to keep them out," she begged. "And I would scream if any of them came near. Please don't shut me up in here?"
Smee, who was watching and listening, found his mouth trembling a bit and had to blink back a tear at the frantic tone of her voice. Hook, however, was glaring at her with an implacable expression, holding the lid in his hook as he pointed downward towards the water with his left index finger.
"We have had such a pleasant morning, Fiona," he muttered, "Please do not ruin it by making me use force."
With a heavy sigh, Fee slowly lowered herself into the tank. The thud of the lid and the click of the lock seemed exceptionally loud in the suddenly still room. Smee stifled a sigh of his own as he turned around and busied himself clearing away the rest of the plates.
Hook impatiently held the door open as Smee stumbled out, carrying the heavily-laden tray filled with dishes and food. He stole one more look back at the tank, and saw that the mermaid was upon her back, staring mournfully up at the lid. Even as he felt a small twinge of sympathy for the pretty creature's enforced confinement, a small voice within his head congratulated him on the of his cleverness of his strategy. Spending a few hours in that wretched tank with no companionship just might make her a little more receptive to his overtures this evening.
"I'll expect you to keep an eye on the door," he snarled to Smee as he turned the key in the lock.
"Aye, aye, Captain," he replied, struggling to keep upright under the weight of the tray. "And when shall I come get the key from you?"
"The key?" he replied, blankly.
"To give her some more food," replied Smee brightly. "I was thinking that I could set out this morning to find some of that seaweed for her."
"Yes," replied Hook thoughtfully. "Gather some of that repulsive greenery, but do not give her anything to eat until tonight."
"But, Captain!"
"She can wait until this evening-when she will be dining with me."
Turning away from Smee, he strode angrily down the deck. He had no doubt that the winsome little mermaid could easily wrap his guileless first mate around her finger if given half a chance, so it was best to keep them separated. And he had been far too indulgent in his treatment of her already. It was high time she realized that she was dependent upon his favor. If she wanted the luxury of plentiful food and more freedom, she had best be prepared to pay for it with a much more compliable attitude than she had heretofore displayed.
Meanwhile, inside of the tank, Fee turned onto her side, taking her by now familiar position of gazing toward the back wall of the cabin. In a way, she was almost grateful to be left alone, for her body and mind were swirling with a strange mixture of thoughts and emotions. She had been scared to death to find Hook standing beside her this morning, but to her surprise, the sight of his naked torso had quickly aroused a surprisingly different set of emotions. Not only had she found herself finding off the urge to stroke her fingers against his hair-covered skin, but she had found herself unexpectedly drawn to him in other ways as well. For one thing, once she had risen out of the water she had suddenly found herself intriguingly aroused by his distinctive odor.
No, not odor, she thought, correcting herself. That word had a rather negative connotation. It was more like a...scent. A scent that reminded her vaguely of the familiar smell of sea water-which was hardly surprising given the number of years his body and clothes had exposed to the ocean air. There was a whiff of spice and a trace of the cologne that Smee had applied to his face this morning as well. But above all that there had been something decidedly masculine that had attracted her to him in a most visceral and primal manner. Indeed, when she had closed her eyes and sniffed at the apple, she had really been trying to breathe in more of that strangely pleasing musk.
As for the t oft of the lower half of his body...
She shivered slightly and allowed her fingers to brush lightly against the skin of her breasts. What he possessed down there, even in a flaccid state, certainly put the mermen's' pale, puny phalluses to shame. She had gotten near enough to them during the mating session to allow their small, hardened members brush against her body, and to feel underneath it the presence of two distinct bumps straining against the skin. Apparently, judging by Hook's physique, in land-dwellers these two orbs were located outside the body, and once more seemed to be quite larger than those of her own species. And, most intriguing of all, it appeared that humans had hair in this area also, judging by the thick thatch of dark hair surrounding the base of his shaft.
She should hate him, she told herself. Her heart should be pounding with fury and she should be spending her time trying to think of a way to escape from his clutches. Undoubtedly, Smee seemed quite sympathetic to her plight and there were times that even Hook himself seemed to be having second thoughts about the way he had treated her. There was a slight chance that she could eventually convince her captor to allow her to leave. Or at least she might cauim tim to lower his guard. If she could get close to his keys, or get her hands on that deadly piece of sharpened steel that had been used to cut the hair from his face, she might be able to fight her way free.
But instead, she found herself thinking again of how his body had looked when divested of his garments, about how surprisingly soft and warm his lips had seemed when he had bent down to blow across the spoon, and in the back of her mind she once more heard the sweet way he had sung to her that night in the lagoon.
Closing her eyes, she tried to drive the memory away. Her damaged tail fin was throbbing slightly with pain now, and she purposefully brushed it against the side of the tank as if eager for the sting to drive other thoughts out of her mind. But the motion only seemed to intensify a strange ache in an altogether different part of her body. Her hands were moving across her body, pausing to graze gently against the soft skin of her stomach before moving downward. Opening her mouth and allowing a soft moan to escape from her lips, she slowly unfurled the interlocking set of fins. She cried out softly as her fingers brushed across the flesh that was much more swollen and tender than it had ever been before. As she began to stroke herself, she became aware of a faint but definite aroma wafting through the water and knew that it was arising from her own body. Increasing the rapidity and intensity of the caresses with her right hand, she raised her left to the hard, pointed mounds of her nipples and began to pinch and play with them as well. Turning on her back again, she arched her back and pretended that Hook was on top of her, his deep, beautiful voice singing sweetly in her ear as he thrust into her.
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Hook and the Mermaid