Written for a prompt on Tumblr. Hope it lives up to standards :)

Caution to the littlies, there be smut ahead on these bumpy seas :)

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Easy Access

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She struggles to suck in a breath, her hand sitting at the bottom of her corset as she watches everyone dancing around the ballroom in a whirl of colour and light. It's Eric and Ariel's wedding and everyone has turned out it silk and satin and tulle for the festivities. Including, much to her dismay, Emma. It's not that she doesn't wish to see a happy wedding, it's just the attire isn't anything she's ever had to be used to. Sure, there are certainly things she loves about it – the whole full skirt meaning she doesn't have to wear a g-string thing is kind of great – but they come at the cost of oxygen and right now that seems to be a very important factor.

A hand touches her shoulder and she turns around, trying to smile at the blue eyes that greet her, but failing miserably with the discomfort she's in.

"You okay, Swan?" he asks, concern evident in every facet of his features.

Her chest heaves with the effort of trying to breathe and she shakes her head, "I was not made for these dresses."

He glances down at the woven red fabric, noticing the way it pinches in her waist and accentuates her cleavage, "Well they were certainly made for you, lass."

Despite her distress, she still manages to roll her eyes at him, "I would rather have my jeans back."

Most of her clothing from her home realm has been beyond repair after a certain dalliance with a certain pirate upon arriving in the Enchanted Forest finally, safe and sound. The excitement of seeing her parents and Henry had taken precedence over any rush of emotions she may have been feeling towards Killian in those first few days in this land. But the formalities had eventually run out and they had come together with passion and greed and in his eagerness, he'd ripped her jeans and shirt clean off her. The only saving grace for her leather jacket was that it was in fact, leather and Killian Jones would never hurt a leather item of clothing.

Speaking of the pirate, his face is a picture of longing and teasing and he leans in close to her to whisper in her ear, "Oh but they never did allow for ease of access, did they?"

He winks as he turns and saunters away from her, his steps carrying him in the direction of her bed chambers.

She looks around at the ballroom, realising that everyone is so wrapped up in their own little bubbles that no one would notice her missing. With a grin, she also turns on her heel and walks.

…

The navigation of this castle is still messing with her and it takes her a few minutes longer than Killian – a noted navigator of the seven seas – to find her way to her room. When she opens the door, he's shirtless, has his shoes kicked off and is lying on her bed, a gold coin passing across his knuckles as he raises an eyebrow at her entrance.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me, lass."

She shakes her head, not even bothering with the small talk. She just wants out of this dress.

Stepping toward him, she begins undoing the laces at the back of the corset, trying to pull the tough ribbons out centimetre by centimetre. It's about halfway between the door and him that she realises she needs help. However, upon reaching the bed, she finds an alternative to asking.

It kind of surprises her that he had time to grab his hook before getting to her room. She could have sworn he'd been wearing his prosthetic hand…

He catches her staring, "If you'd prefer another attachment..."

She smiles, simply not caring any more, lifting the layers of material compiling her dress and swinging her bare legs up onto the bed, straddling the Captain.

Her hand immediately reaches for his hook, bringing it to the back of her corset and pushing roughly, insisting that he just rip through it. He complies without hesitation, striking down once and tearing each thin strap with a growl. And suddenly she can breathe, inhaling and exhaling with vigour as his hand and hook deftly remove the corset, leaving a thin pale slip barely covering her skin, the wrap of fabric falling without the sturdiness of the corset holding it and revealing her breasts to his hungry eyes.

And then his mouth is on her skin and her body is positively humming. He drags his tongue out over her nipple, blowing hot air around the sensitive nub and rolling his hips up under her allowing her to feel his arousal through his pants. She shivers in anticipation and rocks back down on him, desperate to feel him. It's been months of this insatiable need for each other and she's beginning to think it will never end, that they'll never get sick of this. Maybe that's what True Love is, she muses before responding to his teeth entering the mix on her chest with a breathy moan.

"Fuck," tonight isn't about love, she realises. It's about taking what you need and falling apart as they come together.

He growls below her, pulling back and gripping her wrist before rolling them over in a smooth motion. Her arms go free and he uses his good hand and hook to push her legs further apart, grinding against her wetness even as he reaches between them to touch her, feel her sensitive folds and make her squirm.

She reaches forward, breathless and frantic, pulling on the laces of his trousers, pushing them off his hips with her feet and rocking her body towards him until she can feel his hot length against her own slick heat. He pushes in just an inch, teasing her, and she rolls her eyes at him. "Make your mind up, pirate. Hard and fast or soft and slow."

He smiles – that shit eating grin that sends electric shocks rushing through her. "As you wish, princess."

And with a smooth thrust, a sharp gasp and a sweet cry, he is inside of her. Her eyes meet his and he rocks back before hitting into her again, the harsh movements stirring at something in every nerve ending in her body. "More," she urges, meeting his every thrust, "Touch me."

He reaches under her lower back, lifting her slightly, gathering the material of her skirts out of the way as his hook burns on her knee, pushing her legs wider apart, sliding further into her. The new angle gives him stability and once they've built up their rhythm again, his hand tickles over her hip and down to her clit, brushing his thumb across the nerves and relishing in her moans of pleasure.

"Emma," he says roughly, wanting her attention solely on him, "I want you to come for me."

She nods, biting her lip and meeting his thrusts head on every single time, "Only if you come for me."

He chuckles, leaning in to bite her neck, the way he knows she likes it. It's always a challenge between them, and one he's more than willing to participate in.

It's his stubble on her skin and the fine piercing pain soothed by the tenderness of his tongue that gets her in the end, her climax building and breaking in a matter of seconds. She cries out, pushing her hips into his as he continues to thrust frantically into her, not sparing a moment to bring her down, but seeking his own release and finding it only moments later with a jarring punch of his hips, warmth flowing from him into her.

He collapses with a moan to the left of her, throwing a hand over his eyes as his body continues to make its way through his pleasure. She smiles, rolling to her side and feeling the sticky evidence of their orgasms on her inner thighs and relishing in the dirtiness of it all. "I'll never be able to wear this dress again."

She can't see his eyes, but knows that his smile would be reaching those blue irises, "Big loss?"

The skirt is still bunched around her waist, torn in some places from his hook, the corset is a mess, completely unfixable. She knows it took a long time to sew that dress and yet, she can feel no remorse for its timely demise. Her hand reaches out, running across his chest. He removes his arm from his eyes at that point, fingers coming to wrap around hers, "Not even a little loss."

It's sweet and quiet for just a moment, their eyes meeting and conveying all the love they'd denied themselves in the midst of all their frenzied passion.

He breaks the silence, finally, a laugh on his breath, "I suppose if I keep destroying your clothing, we can start skipping to the fun part sooner."

And she can't help but laugh with him, completely in agreement.