A/N: This chapter is a response to prompt "Swanfire/Swanthief phone sex". Rated MA for explicit language and sexual content. Charming, Snow, Belle and Rumple accidentally hear at least part of it - if you find it too disturbing to mix smut and parents in the same fic, pretend you never saw this. Also, If you have a thing for Neal's scarves - be warned that something happens to one of them in this part of the story.
Chapter 1: Incoming call: Emma Swan
The weather was nice in Storybrooke. Soft summer breeze blew across the trees, and the clear blue sky seemed to brighten up everyone's mood. People would go outside, have picnics, walk their dogs... In short, the folks of Storybrooke were having a good time.
But not Neal Cassidy.
Emma Swan, his wife, had traveled to Boston in order to run some errands – pay bills, close bank accounts, return her rented apartment, get a van to take all her stuff to their new house. Henry had decided to spend the weekend at Regina's. He was left behind to fool around in his father's shop, and he couldn't think of anything more boring to do than that.
He was not amused.
He scratched his nose and looked outside the window of his father's office, wondering if the Charmings were on their way. It would still take time for him to get used to having Emma's parents over for tea as often as his father insisted on inviting them, always under the same excuse: that they had business to take care of.
Bullshit.
Business was never part of their visits. Bickering, yes. Tales as old as time of when he saved Charming from some kind of lethal danger… augmented to such an extent that even Snow had to butt in in order to point out some inaccuracies in his father's accounts. And then, there would be more bickering, until Charming rose to his feet, cursed, threatened to punch the older man in the mouth, promised never to set foot in his shop or house again… only to return the next afternoon, ad engage in the same ritual.
Snow and Belle, who seemed to understand the dynamics of that friendship better than anyone else, would simply let them fight while sipping their tea and planning their next adventure - which, at that moment, consisted of setting up a night of "Erotic Tales at the Library", aimed to promote the town's many anonymous writers.
"I am sure that last one I showed you was written by Archie," Belle had whispered once.
Apparently, her idea of setting up a 'writers' corner' at the reserved room of the Storybrooke's library was paying off. So far, over a dozen stories had been deposited in the little box labeled 'share your tales with the world – what happens in the library, stays in the library!'.
People had surely taken the hint – hence the considerable amount of rather spicy drabbles Belle got to collect from the box every week. And unless she was assuming too much, even the Blue Fairy had made a contribution, if that little sly smile on her lips was to say something the last time she was seen in the library…
In other words, even Reul Ghorm was getting some sort of action, even if it was only… literary.
Good for her.
He let out a sigh as he fumbled with the scarf around his neck. Why was he wearing a scarf, anyway? It was summer. Bloody hot, sensual, sweaty-bodies-making-out-outside summer.
He wished Emma Swan would come back home.
He missed her.
He shifted his feet, his mind full of memories of her body in her best summer attire: nude. A droplet of sweat was about to run down his temple, and he was very tempted to let his mind slip into that hallucinating state he would soon enter unless he got rid of that suffocating piece of wool wrapped around his neck.
He missed her a lot.
"Emma…" he whispered, placing his palms on the glass counter as he literally melted into his winter clothes. She had promised to call him that afternoon, and she had insisted he should be wearing that scarf. He had no idea why, but he secretly hoped it was because of something very, very lewd. As a result, he was hot in every sense of the word.
Stupid scarf.
And then, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.
Incoming call: Emma Swan
"Hey babe"
"Hey..."
Funny how a single word from her mouth made the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. It was warm and slow, and he knew that tone of voice. Whenever she spoke to him like that, with that silent, and yet very obvious invitation, he knew how it would end.
And the fact she was miles away wouldn't change that.
"How are things?" he asked, wetting his lips as he started creating all sorts of scenarios in his head.
"Fine... You?"
"Been better."
"Yeah... You tell me."
He heard a sigh on the other side of the line, and a smile curled his lips: she wanted him. She had called him because she wanted him, and in his mind, she was ready. She was not sweating buckets because of a scarf, she was not stuck in a dusty, dimly-lit shop: she was naked, lying on a king-size bed, ready for him, waiting for him.
"How long 'til you come back?"
"Another week, I guess."
He whimpered, partially because of her answer, and partially because the Charmings had just entered the shop. If there was a time when he absolutely did not want to see his in-laws, it was when he was about to unzip his pants and engage in some hot, dirty phone sex with his wife.
"What are you doing?" he asked, as he moved as silently as possible to the backyard to avoid the crowd gathering in the adjoining room.
"Getting dressed."
"Hmm... Is that so?"
"Where are you?"
He blinked at the rays of sunshine that lit the yard, and tried to find a spot where they could... talk with more comfort.
"Somewhere quiet..." he responded, leaning against the wall that divided the yard from the room where, at that very same moment, Emma's parents had joined his father and Belle for their afternoon tea. "And private."
"Alone?"
"Uh-hum."
He heard his wife let out another sigh, and he knew, he was absolutely sure, that she had started without him. His hands slid down to the fly of his jeans, and he gave his hardening cock a gentle squeeze before speaking again.
"You wearing panties?"
"The fuck, Neal?"
"What?"
"You used to be better at phone sex."
"Go easy on me, baby," he whispered, trying not to laugh at her angered reaction as he pushed down the rim of his boxers and pulled out his shaft to lazily stroke himself. "It's been eleven years…"
"Yeah... I'll let this one slide. Missing me?"
"A lot. Can't wait til you come home."
"What for?"
"You wearing panties?"
"Oh come on!"
"Are you?"
"I'm not, but honestly? I see that very soon I'll be."
"No you won't..."
"I will..."
"Not when you're all wet for me..."
"Who says I'm wet?"
"I say it. It's my voice. It never fails."
He could hear her giggle on the other side of the line, and the way her breath came out in little gasps as she laughed made his cock jump in his hand, shivers going up and down his spine.
"I know it turns you on."
"So confident..."
"Missing me?"
"Maybe..."
"You really won't make this easy, will you?"
"Of course not," she whispered, her voice a little more throaty than before. "You hard?"
"Should I be?"
"You son of …"
"Course I'm hard."
He bit his lip, his grip on his shaft tightening as he spoke.
"I wake up every morning thinking of you, Emma…" he whispered, letting her name linger on his lips, knowing that she loved hearing it. "Hard as fuck… like now."
"Go on."
"I need you, Emma."
There was no response, but the way her breath seemed to be getting heavier was enough to trigger a series of very powerful images inside his mind.
"I want you."
Her fingers gliding up and down her folds, in circles, her eyes tightly shut, her back arching as she pleasured herself thinking of him, shuddering at his voice.
"I wanna go down on you…" he whispered, and his heart pounded faster when he remembered her taste, when he remembered the last time he had made her come in his
mouth. "And then fuck you… again… and again."
She was still silent, though her breath had quickened.
"I'm gonna make you cum so hard..."
"Yeah, fuck me…"
Her voice was so loaded with lust and need that his cock swelled even more under his grip, and a strangled moan escaped his lips.
"Can you feel it moving inside you?"
"Fuck yeah…"
"You're so tight, baby… so hot…" he muttered, his strokes becoming faster as he thought of her warmth, of her wet walls wrapped around him as he held the back of her thighs. "I'm gonna fill you with my seed."
"Fuck Neal… I'm so wet for you… throbbing… I want you."
"I'm gonna lick all your juice, baby… Gonna fuck you with my tongue… you like that, don't you?"
"Oh yeah… fuck yeah… Oh God Neal…"
"Gonna lick your bud… then suck it..."
"I wanna suck your cock… want it in my mouth…"
"Yeah… my dick is all wet, Emma," he moaned, as he smeared the glistening droplets of precum from the tip of his cock all the way to his balls. "It twitches every time I hear your voice, every time I think of your mouth…"
"I want it inside my mouth… til the head is in my throat."
"Fuck, Emma..."
"Pulling you in… Fuck my mouth, Neal."
He humped faster into his own hand, biting his lip as he imagined her tongue lavishing his cock, flicking over the sensitive spot under the head, kissing his length as he plunged in and out of her mouth.
"I wanna swallow your seed."
"It's all yours, baby."
And then, just when he was starting to feel the familiar tingle in his balls that announced he was about to peak, her breath and quiet moans ceased.
"Emma?" he asked, his hand stopping halfway up his shaft as he frowned. "Emma?"
"Wait… I'm trying to find something here."
"What? Are you... are you kidding me?"
"Stop whining, Neal."
"I can't believe this! What the hell you're looking for?"
"Click on accept."
"What?"
"Click on speaker, then on accept."
It took a moment for him to realize what she was talking about.
'Emma Swan would like to FaceTime,' read the message on the screen of his cell phone.
When he followed her instructions, he gasped: all of a sudden, he was staring at his own face, his eyes as wide as two saucers, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his face tinted with pink from the arousal and the suffocating heat of the scarf.
He was about to complain that he was not exactly pleased with that addition to their little escapade, when his face was reduced to a tiny square and replaced by an image that made his jaw drop.
"There, happy now?"
"Oh shit," he muttered, his mouth going dry as his heart attempted to burst out of his chest. "Holy shit, Emma, what?"
Behind the wall, Charming frowned as the other three people around him engaged in cheerful conversation. He could swear he had heard his daughter's voice somewhere near them.
And he was not alone. Rumplestiltskin had heard it as well. With a similar frown, the older man pulled back the curtains that covered the small window with a view to the yard to check where that voice had come from.
"Did you hear that?" Emma's father asked.
Before answering, though, Rumplestiltskin's gaze searched the yard for a second, until he spotted Baelfire leaning against the wall, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realized what his beloved son was doing.
"What?" Charming asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, nothing," the older man replied, after pulling back the drapes with a snicker. "It's my son, talking on the phone." He paused, and took another sip of his tea. "I bet we heard Emma's voice because she's very amused with their... conversation."
Charming, however, didn't seem to be convinced.
"He's very good at that," Rumplestiltskin added, with a proud wink. "It runs in the family."
After rolling his eyes, Emma's father finally resorted to sipping his tea as well, trying to focus on what his wife was saying while the older man across from him seemed intent on speaking louder than anyone else in the room.
Outside, Neal Cassidy was hyperventilating as he stared into his phone screen.
"You're drooling, Neal."
Of course he was drooling, and he couldn't possibly care less. His eyes followed the movement of her fingers as they slid in and out of her dripping wet hole, her black nails slowly coming into view when she moved her digits up her slit to rub her swollen clit.
"Can you… Can you see me?" he stuttered, unable to articulate a better question.
"Your face, yes," she panted. "My God Neal, why are you wearing a scarf? It's summer!"
"B-Because you asked me to."
"I asked you to bring a scarf, not to wear it."
He could ask for an explanation, but at that point, it didn't matter. Nothing did, really, not even the fact his sweat-soaked shirt was clinging to his back.
All that mattered was that he was hard as steel, staring into her sex as he neared his climax.
"I wanna see you wanking for me."
His trembling hand lowered the phone to his crotch as he stroked himself faster, feeling his balls tighten as her fingers again delved deep into her, making more of her juices flow.
"Oh my God… Fucking... holy fuck..." he panted amidst moans. "Emma, this is insane…"
"Wait," inside the room, Charming tried to silence the others for the eleventh time, although Rumplestiltskin seemed to cackle louder and bring up another topic for conversation every time he did so. "Did you hear that?"
"Charming, they are talking on the phone," the older man snarled, clearly losing his patience with the other man's paranoia.
"No, they are not," Charming replied, rising to his feet and getting ready to head outside. "What I heard does not sound like talking, not at all."
Rumplestiltskin, though, had also sprung up from his chair, and before Charming got to witness his son's leisurely moment under the sun, he lunged forward and, after deliberately losing his balance, spilled his tea all over the other man.
"What the hell is your problem?" Emma's father yelled, jumping backwards.
In the yard, Neal would have certainly noticed there was something going on in the room behind him, if only he were not entirely lost in a universe of pink as he panted and writhed and wanked furiously with his cell phone a mere foot away from his erection.
"You're dripping, baby… Fucking dripping…"
"Cum for me, Neal…"
"Oh yeah…"
"Fill me with your fucking cum…"
"Oh fuck Emma… I'm gonna cum!"
"Cum in your scarf."
"What?"
"The scarf, Neal, use your scarf."
He panicked for a moment. He only had two hands: one of them was busy with his throbbing cock, the other was holding the phone. Unless a third one popped out of somewhere, he would never be able to get his scarf in time.
After a moment of hesitation, he chose to let go of his erection while still holding the phone, and removed the scarf from his neck in such a hurry he nearly strangled himself.
As soon as the wool brushed against the tip of his cock, he felt a first spurt of semen being forced out of his body, followed by at least half a dozen of others just as strong. He was sure he had wailed as he came, his voice mingling with Emma's moans, and for the first time he considered the possibility that the people inside the shop might have actually heard them.
"My turn now."
Unaware of the precarious situation her husband found himself in, Emma Swan was getting ready for her grand finale as well.
"Let me see your face."
He raised the camera to his head, keeping it at an arm's distance from his face.
"I love your smile, Neal...you know that?"
His grin widened at her words. He was still trying to catch his breath and his whole body was covered in sweat, but the way she said his name made a new wave of shivers sweep his body.
"My God this is so freaking wrong…" he chuckled, although his eyes were still hungry and very, very serious as he stared into her folds.
"Lick me, Neal… Make me cum… in your mouth…"
"I'm licking you baby… you're so hot…"
"Fuck yeah, Neal... yeah baby..."
Charming had just accepted to take a seat again after Rumplestiltskin lent him another shirt, and exactly when they were all silent for the first time that afternoon... exactly when he had just taken a sip from his already cold tea...
He heard Emma's voice again.
And so did all the others in the room.
"FUCK NEAL OH... MY... GOD!"
There was tea coming out of his nostrils when he stood up and marched towards the yard, swiping the phone from Neal's hands while still choking profusely.
And Neal's jaw dropped not for the first time that afternoon.
All of a sudden, Chariots of Fire started playing inside his head and he saw everything in slow motion: behind him, he could see his father outstretching his arms in an attempt to stop the inevitable... in front of him, Charming was slowly turning his head to look at the phone he was clutching in his angry fatherly hand.
If he had another second to spare, he would have glanced down at his lap to make sure he had zipped himself up properly - something he was not sure he had done - before he jumped into action, but even that did not matter anymore.
What Charming was about to see in that phone would likely scar him for life.
He had to do something, quickly.
Anything.
And so, he did the only thing that crossed his foggy mind: he tackled his father-in-law to the ground, and saw the cell phone bounce away and land a foot away from Charming's arm.
"EMMA TURN OFF THE CAMERA!" he yelled, as he forced Charming's face in the opposite direction.
"Get... your... filthy haand... out of my face!" the man snarled, trying to reach for the phone as he struggled to break free from his grasp. "I know what you were doing!"
"I am left-handed!"
"No you're not!" Charming spat out. "I saw you fighting, you hold your sword with your... sticky... right hand!"
"Not this sword!"
The blond man was ready to rant on, but that statement gave him pause.
"I know," Neal gasped, realizing the frown in his father-in-law's face. "I find it strange too!"
Charming blinked, and seemed to ponder for a moment, as if reviewing his own skills with the sword.
Or swords, as it was.
Neal, realizing that was his chance to put an end to that ridiculous scene, quickly threw his body to the side and grabbed the phone, only to find a hysterical Emma Swan yelling at him from the other side of the line.
"... my father? NEAL! Talk to me! Was that MY FATHER?"
"Yes, Emma, that was your father," he said, letting out a relieved sigh when he saw the camera was off, though the phone was still on the speaker.
"Neal, where THE FUCK are you?"
"In the yard... of my father's shop," he whimpered, covering his eyes as if to protect himself from his wife's rage.
"And my PARENTS are there?"
"Th-"
"Did you KNOW they were there?"
"Yes, bu-"
"You told me you were somewhere quiet and private!"
"And I was!" he exclaimed. "'Til your father walked in on us."
Charming had already risen to his feet, and was now glaring daggers at him. He slowly stood up as well, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him.
He frowned.
Actually, no. That had happened to him twice before, and coming to think of it... he would rather deal with all the awkwardness of that moment than go through a portal again.
"Well," he heard Emma whisper. "At least now he knows what it feels like."
He raised his eyebrows in shock, and suddenly all eyes shifted from him to Charming.
"What?" Rumplestiltskin snorted. "You let your 28-year-old daughter walk in on you?"
"Hey, y-"
"No, seriously," the older man snarled. "And you're still trying to teach my son a lesson?"
"It's not as if I hadn't almost walked in on you and Belle as well," Neal muttered, looking at the ground as he stuffed one of his hands into his pocket.
"Yes, son, you almost did," Rumplestiltskin replied, flourishing his hands proudly as he spoke. "But you never actually did. And that makes all the difference."
"I swear I can't believe you and I are part of the same family," Charming barked, now aiming his poisonous look at his long-term rival.
"Ooh," Neal saw his father exclaim, in another display of disdain. "I would love to keep the conversational ball rolling, Charming, but I am getting a phone call myself."
He pressed a button on his cell phone, and turned his back to the other people in the yard.
"Hello? Yes? Belle! What a pleasant surprise, my sweet, most enchanting wife!"
"Oh, you have to be kidding!" Charming ranted, finally realizing that Belle had not joined them in the yard, and apparently found the whole situation rather amusing. "I am DONE with you Tiltskins!"
And with that final outburst of rage, he marched past Rumplestiltskin and headed to the exit, his ears as pink as the shirt he was wearing.
Snow made to follow him, but stopped dead on her tracks and turned to look at her son-in-law before leaving the shop as well.
"Send Emma all my love?" she muttered, her chin trembling as she struggled not to laugh.
"I can hear you, mum..."
"Oh," she said, blushing a little. "Well, then. Take care."
And then she started walking again - just to stop after two or three steps.
"And... I promise your father and I will be more... careful next time," she whispered, and Neal could swear he heard giggles as she walked past the door.
"Did you seriously walk in on your parents... doing the do?" he asked, after turning the speaker off and taking the phone to his ear.
"I seriously did."
"At least now you're even... Sort of."
"Pretty much. Uhm, Neal?"
"Yes?"
"Will you be angry if I say I... kinda lied to you?"
His heart sunk at her words, but he tried to keep his cool.
"Lied to me? What about?"
"Can you turn the camera on again?"
He scratched his nose and cleared his throat, trying not to let his anxiety show. She had lied to him... Goodness grief, couldn't they have a moment of peace?
"I told you I would only be back next week, but..."
When her face showed up on the screen, he felt his heart race. He never got tired of those eyes, that mouth... even when she was about to break bad news, biting her bottom lip with that guilty look on her face...
Then the camera shifted around, and he saw a dreamcatcher hanging on the wall by the window...
"Aw hell no..." he whispered.
"I am actually in our bed, as we speak," she said, smiling at him as she brought the camera back to her face. "Only two blocks away from where you are now..."
Emma Swan must have found it strange when all of a sudden, she found herself staring at the blue sky above.
"Neal?" she asked.
There was no response.
"Neal?"
In Storybrooke's main road, some people laughed and pointed at the man running as he struggled to get rid of his shirt with a maniac smile on his face, his phone long forgotten under the sun, in the backyard of his father's shop.
