Title: Shut Off
Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT or its characters.
Rating: M
Note: A prompt from Blurcita on Tumblr - "Let me think… fluffy and maybe sexy…. Emma or Graham in a towel (that can slip a bit too much hehehhe) before they start a relationship. Maybe one of them had to have a shower in the station because they are reparing the system at their homes… lots of flush, embarrasement, banter and body appreciation"
Summary: A couple days post 1x07. Graham didn't die. Emma and he kissed, but Emma then said it was a mistake. Things have been tense between them.
She grimaced as she jogged the last few feet to the station entrance.
She never used to be a runner, not in the literal sense. Jogging was something that seemed a show-off activity, not like going to the gym where there was also free weights and machines and things to push you. Jogging meant you had to be alone with your thoughts, and that wasn't something Emma was too keen on.
That had changed recently, though. She had so much to sort out in her head that the clear air and the burning of her lungs as she ran down the streets in the early morning fog were inviting. Thoughts of Henry's theories, Mary Margaret's kindness, … and her own stupidity concerning her boss.
It had been stupid enough to kiss him. It had been stupider still to deny that she felt anything for him straight after.
She shoved her key into the door, twisting it with more force than was truly necessary. "Stupid," she muttered again to herself, slamming the glass shut again. She pushed back a sweaty strand of hair, then locked the door again. The blinds were still down, and it was still early. She had plenty of time to shower and get dressed before the work day began.
She placed her bag on her desk, turning for the bathroom at the back of the building. She peeled her shirt from her body with a grimace and left it and her shoes in a heap by the door, leaving her in her sports bra and stretchy capris. It didn't occur to her to think through why the air felt warm, hanging with a fresh, clean scent and buzzing with the low hum of the fan.
She pushed open the door soundlessly, and her mouth instantly went dry.
He hadn't noticed her yet as he looked down at the sink, his lashes dark against his cheeks from her view through the mirror. His back was to her, the only thing covering him a white towel wrapped around his trim waist, exposing his torso to her gaze. As he moved, the muscles in his back rippled and shifted, lithe and powerful. What struck her most, though, were the white marks covering the expanse of his skin. His body was a roadmap of pain and abuse, scars rolling up the length of his body and fully exposed to her eyes. She held back a hiss of empathy, her fingers unconsciously rubbing against the round scar between the webbing of her thumb and forefinger, one of the few marks visible of her hard childhood.
She blinked back a strange wash of emotion and then glanced up again, watching as he placed tufts of white cream over his jaw. "No, don't do that," she blurted out.
He turned to her in surprise, his hand immediately gripping the towel. A flush overwhelmed his face. "Emma?" he asked in question, embarrassment pronounced in his tone and posture.
She stepped forward, her feet moving almost of their own accord. Her lips quirked up in a hesitant smile, one he mirrored in a sort of confusion. "Your beard. You should leave it," she clarified. Her voice sounded unnatural to her ears, husky and hoarse.
She swallowed, turning to the sink and running the stream until it ran warm. She took the washcloth off the side, soaking it under the water then rung it out in a false sense of calm. She turned, finding him watching her closely. She pushed the razor off the sink, letting it clatter to the ground and out of their reach. She hesitated, meeting his eye again before wiping down his jaw, the shaving cream coming off in one long swipe. His eyes fluttered shut, letting her do as she wished. She blew out a low breath, then repeated the motions. She felt the slightest of tremors begin in her body, only to be echoed in his. She didn't realize that she had been drifting closer until the softness of his towel brushed against her bare stomach.
His hands clenched at his waist, careful not to move. Her shaking hands finished removing the cream, but it lingered on his cheek, staring at him closely. She tilted closer, her sweat-cooled skin seeking the heat of his clean body, only to swallow back a moan as she felt him hard against her belly. Their breathing was matched, short and ragged, not daring to speak for breaking the spell between them. His pupils were blown, black overtaking the blue in a flame of desire that coiled heat deep in the pit of her stomach.
Still, he didn't move an inch.
Finally, she dropped the washcloth, pulling her hands down the scruff of his jaw, down his neck, and across his broad shoulders to grip against his biceps. He shivered, goosebumps blooming over his skin as he finally rested his hands lightly against her hips. He didn't press her into the length of his body, but didn't pull her back either. He was waiting, waiting so patiently. In reward, she rolled closer, biting down hard on her lip as she considered how well they fit into each other but how disproportionate, in her favor, this new part felt.
His hands smoothed their way up her back, tangling in her hair. With one quick tug, the elastic was pulled loose, bringing her curls to fall into her face. He leaned closer, his breath warm on her lips, but he hovered there before shifting to meet her ear. "You said no," he reminds in a low whisper.
She turned, resting her temple against his before nudging him to meet her eyes. "Now I'm saying yes," she clarified.
His lips met hers hard, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. She moaned, opening her mouth to allow the sweep of his tongue. His taste was heady, and he slanted his lips to pull her closer still. It was almost suffocating, leaving her light headed and dazed, but in the best way. She rocked her hips closer, eliciting a deeper moan from him. He broke free, hissing as he tried to still her movement. It was too fast, and she knew it was too fast, but he was damp and warm and nearly naked against her and she needed him.
She pulled back just a fraction, just enough to hook her fingers into her top and pull it over her head. He watched her movement, almost hypnotized, those dark eyes taking in the shape of her. She had never felt so desired in the whole of her twenty-eight years, and not just physically. Carefully, he traced the indents where the elastic had marred her skin, smoothing tender circles with his thumbs.
"Emma … princess … I really shouldn't," he mumbled, his eyes hazy as they followed the pattern of his fingers.
She arched into his touch, feeling as he traced closer, making swirls in the moisture of her skin. "I want you to," she insisted, then gripped his wrist to bring his hand lower, to dip into the waistband of her pants.
He groaned, pressing his forehead against hers, trailing his fingers down into her panties. It was almost ticklish, the light movement, his hesitance. His lips met hers again and she responded eagerly, just as he lowered still to trace her opening. She trembled, her balance thrown. He held her firmly in place with an arm around her, the other pressing gently against her core. She whimpered into his mouth, and she felt his answering grin. His fingers were still teasing, careful, and her movement was greatly limited by his strength.
He broke away, backing up from her and she let out a low whine of protest before he fell to his knees. She watched him with wide eyes as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her hipbone, nipping there with his teeth. He tugged down both her pants and underwear slowly. "You need a shower," he said huskily, looking up at her with a grin.
She could only nod, her breath stolen. He rose, pulling her close again and guiding them both into the shower stall. With shaking fingers, she found the knot on the towel, yanking it off. Her eyes trailed down his torso, across solid muscle and sinewy curves, to the hard length of him.
She licked her lips, not sure if she wanted to touch him, taste him, or just feel him deep inside her until she didn't know where he ended and she began. Her indecision gave him time to cover them in a spray of hot water, and she watched the liquid sluice over his body hypnotically.
He edged her chin up, meeting her in a slow, languid kiss that she returned with equal fervor. His hands cupped the small of her waist, almost reverently. Slowly, she traced the line of his body, moving from his back to his stomach before curling around him. He bit down on her lip, rocking into her touch and she felt a certain satisfaction in the small loss of control.
She wanted more of it.
She stroked lightly up and down a few times, feeling his breathing increase against her chest before he finally wrenched his mouth away from her lips to pant heavily into the crook of her shoulder. He swore thickly, and she only grinned, increasing the tempo and the pressure.
"Stop," he finally commanded in a strangled groan, gripping her hand. He bit the skin of her neck lightly, before bringing her hands to rest on his chest. His heart was pounding erratically, solid against her hand. She felt a moment of confusion behind the haze of her desire as she recognized some difference in how it felt as compared to a few days ago.
But then he dropped to his knees again, tracing the inside of her thighs with his tongue and teeth in a pattern leading to her center, and all rational thought flew out of her mind. She rested heavily against the tile, bringing one leg over his shoulder to provide him better access as he swept his tongue across in one broad stoke. One hand tangled in the dark wet curls of his hair, digging into his scalp to try and press him closer. He remained teasing, lightly exploring her core and keeping a deliberate distance. She shook, trembling hard and she yanked. "Please, please," she whimpered.
He chuckled, the warm sensation blooming even more against her. He pulled back just a fraction, just enough to meet her eye. With everything in her, she could not manage to hold back a groan of desire. She had never seen anything as sexy as this man kneeling in front of her, holding her bruisingly close, and with a look in his eyes that showed not just anticipation, not just longing … but something she didn't want to think was possible.
"Tell me," he demanded, digging his fingers even deeper into her skin.
Her mouth parted, and suddenly she wasn't sure what she wanted. She wanted his mouth on her again, she wanted her tongue swirling around him, but mostly she wanted him inside her, tasting his moans as he drew her own from somewhere deep in her chest.
"You," she finally said. "I want to feel you."
He sucked her nub between his teeth and she cried out at the sudden pressure, stars forming behind her eyes. Then he trailed kisses up her stomach as he balanced on his feet again. Her lips met his as he leveled his face with hers, and she was surprised at how much she missed them. He tasted like her, but she couldn't bring herself to care as she fell deeper into the kiss.
"Emma," he murmured, bumping her nose with his.
She looked up to his eyes, and she understood. She held his gaze, feeling the whirl of emotion behind it, letting her face soften as she realized. Oh. Oh. Not just sex. She felt her face warm with the knowledge, a rush of nerves and anticipation. She kept eye contact with him for a long moment, feeling the spray of water and thick steam surrounding them, but her heart beat rapidly with the realization that this, them, would never be just sex. And this hesitation on his part was making sure she was okay with that.
Finally, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and then rose to lock her legs around his torso. "Yes," she replied against his lips, making sure her eyes remained locked on his. "Yes, I'm ready." Yes, I trust you.
A slow, blinding smile crossed his features. He kissed her unhurriedly again, reaching between them to guide himself to her entrance before cradling her hips sturdily. She cried out at the sensation, of him pressing against her, stretching her, filling her. A sting of tears formed behind her vision, a swarm of emotion she didn't anticipate. He hissed as he reached the hilt, stilling as they became accustomed to each other.
"Thank you," he breathed against her lips. She choked out a low whimper before nodding hastily. She understood. He wouldn't say it to her, but she understood.
He shifted, eliciting a groan from each of them. He began moving with slow strokes, taking the time to let their bodies become comfortable with each other. Emma leaned her head into his chest, gasping hard as her nails clawed into his back. Sharply, she remembered the scars there, and her fingers rested more gently, moving over with long sweeping movements before tangling back up in his hair.
He didn't seem to mind it, increasing his pace as going slow became too much for them both. He scrapped his teeth against her shoulder, low growls escaping him as he thrust harder each stroke. She could feel her whole body tensing, arching up with each movement.
"Yours," he hissed, and she felt a shakiness at how the turn of possession felt.
"Yes," she groaned heavily. Yes, he was hers. And she was his. It wasn't the same as anything else she'd ever felt in her life, of anything she ever anticipated feeling. It felt even deeper than the feeling of him inside her, of the climax she could feel building between them, than the hold they couldn't resist having on each other. It felt real.
At her words, he sped up, thrusting long and hard and fast into her, his thumb rolling over her firmly. His mouth pressed into hers, and their lips met aggressively, feeling the end nearing and fighting against it together.
She felt the air around them crackle with energy, her body finally snapping and shattering in its peak, pulling him with her. A shared moan was swallowed between them, heavy and fulfilling. He pressed tender kisses along her jaw as they came down, holding her in a tight embrace.
They were quiet for a long moment, as she felt him soften inside her, the pounding of the shower spray against their relaxing bodies. He caught her gaze again, and she could see it, everything she had been denying since she came to this town.
This was where she belonged. With him, with Henry, with this life.
That emotion she wasn't ready for still glowed in his stunning blue eyes, as he set a lingering kiss against her lips again.
"Remind me," he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers lovingly. "I need to thank Gold for shutting off my water."
End