![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiTitle: Bedtime Routines
Pairing: Hook/Mrs. Darling, Hook/Wendy
Rating: NC-17
Category: Dubious consent.
AN: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
japanpeterpan for beta.
This is definitely a PWP. It's written purely to give me an opportunity to write Hook and smut. I hope you enjoy it!
Mrs. Darling was in the habit of brushing Wendy's hair every night. One hundred strokes, just as she had been taught, and still did every night herself. She could have said that she brushed her daughter's hair because they couldn't afford a maid, but in truth she enjoyed this intimate moment with her oldest child. Just the two of them in Wendy's room without the boisterous, chattering crowd of the menfolk of their family. She enjoyed the slow strokes, polishing Wendy's blond tresses to a shiny waterfall- a moment of freedom before it was bound into a braid to be out of the way when she slept.
It was a night like every other night. They talked a little- nothing important, just the kind of talk that relates to family and friends. Mrs. Darling smiled toward her daughter in the mirror, proud, and a little sad, over the beautiful face that was growing into a young woman’s, more and more rapidly it seemed. When the door opened they both turned their heads- that was a thing that never happened. Wendy's door was knocked upon, but never in the evening, as no one but the two of them had any business there at that hour.
The man who entered, and closed the door was totally unfamiliar to Mrs. Darling, and very unlike any other man she had ever seen. His hair was long, worn in curls, framing a face that was handsome enough, but she saw cruelty in the quirk of his lips, and she felt cold. The hair and sumptuous clothing ought to have seemed effeminate to her mind, men didn’t dress like this, but the effect was far from it. He was tall and slim and held himself very erect and in the coldness that gripped Mrs. Darling's heart, an unwanted bolt of heat flashed through, before she quelled it.
Then she saw the gun in his hand, and the cry she had almost uttered was stifled, and after that she saw the gleaming steel hook that he had instead of a right hand. That far she registered before Wendy's terrified gasp, and she understood who she had before her. She put her hand on Wendy's shoulder and the girl's body felt tense under her palm.
“There is no use in screaming,” he said. “I'm not alone, and the rest of your family is under surveillance. Their well-being is very much in your fair hands at the moment.”
He looked at Wendy when he spoke, and Mrs. Darling could see greed and hunger in his eyes, and then he looked at her, and the look deepened. He had blue eyes, she noted, truly blue eyes, and she could hear the reminiscence of Wendy's youthful voice as she narrated the story about Peter Pan and the fearsome Captain Hook. Eyes blue as forget-me-nots, indeed.
“I don't believe you,” she answered, though she could see ruthlessness in his eyes. He gave her a crooked smile.
“Doubting me?” He raised his voice. “Get in here.”
The door was opened again, and an older man dragged her youngest son in by the neck of his shirt. Hook pointed at Michael with the glittering hook.
“Want me to gut him here and now to prove my seriousness?”
“Mother,” Wendy whispered, but Mrs. Darling had already capitulated.
“No, no, don't hurt him. I'll, we’ll, do what you want.”
“Ah, how beautiful- a mother's love. I feel quite touched.” He nodded at the pirate, and Michael was dragged out again, the door closing with a much too loud sound. “Well then, let's get down to business. Wendy, my beautiful girl, why don't you get up so I can have a proper look at you.”
Mrs. Darling quickly stepped in front of her daughter. “Don't touch her.”
She expected Hook to become angry, but he just smiled at her, as he walked through the room and stopped just before her. Two fingers lifted her chin, then turned her face. Mrs. Darling exhaled sharply at the shock of feeling his warm touch, light, but with a force behind it.
“Charming,” he said. “Quite charming. I can see where Wendy gets her looks. And probably her bravery as well, considering the shaking mess your husband proved to be. I'll touch her if I want, but if it calms you, I can assure you that I won't relieve her of her virginity tonight. I need her as she is- hopefully she is not too old to work as a lure for Peter Pan. But I do want to have a look at her.”
He pushed her to aside, and nodded to Wendy, who obeyed and rose. Hook took a step back, his eyes taking her in.
“Take off her dressing gown,” he ordered Mrs. Darling and she obeyed with trembling hands. Wendy was still dressed in her underwear and corset, but she blushed feverishly under the gaze of Hook.
“Not bad, but I think you are a bit slack when it comes to her lacing, my dear Madam. A tiny waist is a young girl‘s crowning glory, as it is for an older woman as well.”
“I, I don't believe in making children be too restricted.”
“She is not a child. Lace her in good and proper. Now.”
Remembering Michael in the pirate's grip, Mrs. Darling obeyed. Wendy gasped when the corset tightened around her body, and Mrs. Darling stopped.
“More.”
“But she can't breathe.”
“She'll get used to it.”
When Mrs. Darling retied the laces Wendy sank down in the chair, her breathing shallow and restrained.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Mrs. Darling asked her, and her daughter gave her a small smile.
“Don't worry Mother, I'll manage.”
Mrs. Darling looked at Hook to see what he was going to do now, and blushed when she met his eyes as he was staring straight at her.
“Your turn, Madam.”
Though she had half-expected that, Mrs. Darling still felt a bit shocked over it. You simply did not undress in front of someone, and she hesitated for so long that Hook suddenly seized her by the arm and the sharp hook cut into her evening gown, easily ripping it apart. Wendy let out a strangled scream, as did Mrs. Darling herself, but she was not touched by the metal-- it was just her clothes that were destroyed. Gown and corset cover feel to the floor, and her chemise was torn so her breasts were indecently exposed. When she tried to cover herself Hook delivered a stinging slap to her face.
“Don't. You want to be nice and forthcoming tonight, don't you, Madam?”
The icy threat in his voice calmed her down, and she nodded.
“Good.” He stepped back from her, and looked her over carefully. “You look quite enchanting, my dear. And now, please resume what you were doing when I arrived.”
It took Mrs. Darling a few moments to realise what he wanted her to do, but then she slowly took the brush again and started to untangle Wendy's hair. Hook came to stand behind her, quite close, and she shuddered when she could feel his warm breath on her skin.
“Your figure is quite admirable- especially considering how many children you have.”
She could feel a tug at the laces of her corset when they were untied, and then how the garment grew tighter around her waist. She rarely laced herself hard these days, only for grander occasions, and then she always took care to do it slowly. Now the sudden constriction made her gasp, and she could feel her heartbeat very clearly. When Hook stopped, she thought she was not far from fainting, but after the first dizzy moments her body had adapted enough for her to remain standing, though feeling very uncomfortable.
Hook stepped even closer to her, and in the mirror she met his eyes. Mrs. Darling found that she could not stand his eyes on her, but even with her eyes downcast she could feel his gaze, and it burned on her cheeks making them red. She looked at her hands, brushing slowly and carefully, feeling Hook's hand in her own hair, and how he carefully unpinned it, letting the heavy mass fall down over her back. When the tip of his finger grazed her neck a peculiar feeling ran through her, and the shortness of breath she was feeling was no longer wholly to blame on her corset.
George hadn't touched her for years, apart from dutiful kisses. He had, after careful counting and re-counting, proclaimed that they couldn't afford a fourth child, and was prepared to sacrifice the marital bed to avoid that. He had not asked Mary if she thought so- presumably he had assumed that their thoughts ran alike on that matter. But she had missed it, and when this strange and dangerous man let his hand roam over her body, she could feel herself grow eager for more, though it made her blush in shame.
She felt no surprise when he took the brush from her and laid it on the table before he spun her around and kissed her. The sharp steel pressed into her neck, and his finger dug greedily into her buttocks. Despite the lust she felt, Mary tried to wriggle free.
“Please, not in front of Wendy.”
“Most certainly in front of Wendy, Madam. I'm sure it will be educational for her.”
Mrs. Darling found herself steered to the bed, her knees feeling weak, and then she was on her back and his hand were between her legs, and though she first pushed at him, and then hit him, she could feel his finger sink deep inside her, and she felt wet and very willing when he parted her legs more, and replaced his hand with something else. And though she hated it, told herself that she hated it very much, it felt good as well, better than she remembered it, and she closed her eyes and tried to forget that her poor innocent daughter had to see her mother be degraded so.
TBC
Pairing: Hook/Mrs. Darling, Hook/Wendy
Rating: NC-17
Category: Dubious consent.
AN: Thanks to
japanpeterpan for beta.This is definitely a PWP. It's written purely to give me an opportunity to write Hook and smut. I hope you enjoy it!
Mrs. Darling was in the habit of brushing Wendy's hair every night. One hundred strokes, just as she had been taught, and still did every night herself. She could have said that she brushed her daughter's hair because they couldn't afford a maid, but in truth she enjoyed this intimate moment with her oldest child. Just the two of them in Wendy's room without the boisterous, chattering crowd of the menfolk of their family. She enjoyed the slow strokes, polishing Wendy's blond tresses to a shiny waterfall- a moment of freedom before it was bound into a braid to be out of the way when she slept.
It was a night like every other night. They talked a little- nothing important, just the kind of talk that relates to family and friends. Mrs. Darling smiled toward her daughter in the mirror, proud, and a little sad, over the beautiful face that was growing into a young woman’s, more and more rapidly it seemed. When the door opened they both turned their heads- that was a thing that never happened. Wendy's door was knocked upon, but never in the evening, as no one but the two of them had any business there at that hour.
The man who entered, and closed the door was totally unfamiliar to Mrs. Darling, and very unlike any other man she had ever seen. His hair was long, worn in curls, framing a face that was handsome enough, but she saw cruelty in the quirk of his lips, and she felt cold. The hair and sumptuous clothing ought to have seemed effeminate to her mind, men didn’t dress like this, but the effect was far from it. He was tall and slim and held himself very erect and in the coldness that gripped Mrs. Darling's heart, an unwanted bolt of heat flashed through, before she quelled it.
Then she saw the gun in his hand, and the cry she had almost uttered was stifled, and after that she saw the gleaming steel hook that he had instead of a right hand. That far she registered before Wendy's terrified gasp, and she understood who she had before her. She put her hand on Wendy's shoulder and the girl's body felt tense under her palm.
“There is no use in screaming,” he said. “I'm not alone, and the rest of your family is under surveillance. Their well-being is very much in your fair hands at the moment.”
He looked at Wendy when he spoke, and Mrs. Darling could see greed and hunger in his eyes, and then he looked at her, and the look deepened. He had blue eyes, she noted, truly blue eyes, and she could hear the reminiscence of Wendy's youthful voice as she narrated the story about Peter Pan and the fearsome Captain Hook. Eyes blue as forget-me-nots, indeed.
“I don't believe you,” she answered, though she could see ruthlessness in his eyes. He gave her a crooked smile.
“Doubting me?” He raised his voice. “Get in here.”
The door was opened again, and an older man dragged her youngest son in by the neck of his shirt. Hook pointed at Michael with the glittering hook.
“Want me to gut him here and now to prove my seriousness?”
“Mother,” Wendy whispered, but Mrs. Darling had already capitulated.
“No, no, don't hurt him. I'll, we’ll, do what you want.”
“Ah, how beautiful- a mother's love. I feel quite touched.” He nodded at the pirate, and Michael was dragged out again, the door closing with a much too loud sound. “Well then, let's get down to business. Wendy, my beautiful girl, why don't you get up so I can have a proper look at you.”
Mrs. Darling quickly stepped in front of her daughter. “Don't touch her.”
She expected Hook to become angry, but he just smiled at her, as he walked through the room and stopped just before her. Two fingers lifted her chin, then turned her face. Mrs. Darling exhaled sharply at the shock of feeling his warm touch, light, but with a force behind it.
“Charming,” he said. “Quite charming. I can see where Wendy gets her looks. And probably her bravery as well, considering the shaking mess your husband proved to be. I'll touch her if I want, but if it calms you, I can assure you that I won't relieve her of her virginity tonight. I need her as she is- hopefully she is not too old to work as a lure for Peter Pan. But I do want to have a look at her.”
He pushed her to aside, and nodded to Wendy, who obeyed and rose. Hook took a step back, his eyes taking her in.
“Take off her dressing gown,” he ordered Mrs. Darling and she obeyed with trembling hands. Wendy was still dressed in her underwear and corset, but she blushed feverishly under the gaze of Hook.
“Not bad, but I think you are a bit slack when it comes to her lacing, my dear Madam. A tiny waist is a young girl‘s crowning glory, as it is for an older woman as well.”
“I, I don't believe in making children be too restricted.”
“She is not a child. Lace her in good and proper. Now.”
Remembering Michael in the pirate's grip, Mrs. Darling obeyed. Wendy gasped when the corset tightened around her body, and Mrs. Darling stopped.
“More.”
“But she can't breathe.”
“She'll get used to it.”
When Mrs. Darling retied the laces Wendy sank down in the chair, her breathing shallow and restrained.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Mrs. Darling asked her, and her daughter gave her a small smile.
“Don't worry Mother, I'll manage.”
Mrs. Darling looked at Hook to see what he was going to do now, and blushed when she met his eyes as he was staring straight at her.
“Your turn, Madam.”
Though she had half-expected that, Mrs. Darling still felt a bit shocked over it. You simply did not undress in front of someone, and she hesitated for so long that Hook suddenly seized her by the arm and the sharp hook cut into her evening gown, easily ripping it apart. Wendy let out a strangled scream, as did Mrs. Darling herself, but she was not touched by the metal-- it was just her clothes that were destroyed. Gown and corset cover feel to the floor, and her chemise was torn so her breasts were indecently exposed. When she tried to cover herself Hook delivered a stinging slap to her face.
“Don't. You want to be nice and forthcoming tonight, don't you, Madam?”
The icy threat in his voice calmed her down, and she nodded.
“Good.” He stepped back from her, and looked her over carefully. “You look quite enchanting, my dear. And now, please resume what you were doing when I arrived.”
It took Mrs. Darling a few moments to realise what he wanted her to do, but then she slowly took the brush again and started to untangle Wendy's hair. Hook came to stand behind her, quite close, and she shuddered when she could feel his warm breath on her skin.
“Your figure is quite admirable- especially considering how many children you have.”
She could feel a tug at the laces of her corset when they were untied, and then how the garment grew tighter around her waist. She rarely laced herself hard these days, only for grander occasions, and then she always took care to do it slowly. Now the sudden constriction made her gasp, and she could feel her heartbeat very clearly. When Hook stopped, she thought she was not far from fainting, but after the first dizzy moments her body had adapted enough for her to remain standing, though feeling very uncomfortable.
Hook stepped even closer to her, and in the mirror she met his eyes. Mrs. Darling found that she could not stand his eyes on her, but even with her eyes downcast she could feel his gaze, and it burned on her cheeks making them red. She looked at her hands, brushing slowly and carefully, feeling Hook's hand in her own hair, and how he carefully unpinned it, letting the heavy mass fall down over her back. When the tip of his finger grazed her neck a peculiar feeling ran through her, and the shortness of breath she was feeling was no longer wholly to blame on her corset.
George hadn't touched her for years, apart from dutiful kisses. He had, after careful counting and re-counting, proclaimed that they couldn't afford a fourth child, and was prepared to sacrifice the marital bed to avoid that. He had not asked Mary if she thought so- presumably he had assumed that their thoughts ran alike on that matter. But she had missed it, and when this strange and dangerous man let his hand roam over her body, she could feel herself grow eager for more, though it made her blush in shame.
She felt no surprise when he took the brush from her and laid it on the table before he spun her around and kissed her. The sharp steel pressed into her neck, and his finger dug greedily into her buttocks. Despite the lust she felt, Mary tried to wriggle free.
“Please, not in front of Wendy.”
“Most certainly in front of Wendy, Madam. I'm sure it will be educational for her.”
Mrs. Darling found herself steered to the bed, her knees feeling weak, and then she was on her back and his hand were between her legs, and though she first pushed at him, and then hit him, she could feel his finger sink deep inside her, and she felt wet and very willing when he parted her legs more, and replaced his hand with something else. And though she hated it, told herself that she hated it very much, it felt good as well, better than she remembered it, and she closed her eyes and tried to forget that her poor innocent daughter had to see her mother be degraded so.
TBC
