A/N: written for CS kink month. Totally plotless and pointless smut. ;)
Enjoy!
Hook grasped frantically at the open air, sending the dull sting of rope burn into his wrist, clenching and unclenching his fist helplessly against the cords that bound him. One loop of the rope was knotted firmly around the wrist of his good hand, while the other was caught just beneath the bulky attachment – now hookless – binding him mercilessly to the top of the bed frame.
And she was merciless.
She was a siren. A minx. A goddess with blonde hair spilling over her shoulders like rays of sunlight as her soft lips brushed their way along the strip of hair down his stomach. His muscles were trembling and he would have killed to be able to touch her when her lips grazed his hardened length all too briefly.
This was his own fault for asking for it.
"You tie an... impressive knot, Swan," he grimaced, tugging lightly at the ropes.
"I do remember someone saying I'd make a good pirate," she replied teasingly before sitting back on her haunches to survey her handiwork, thoroughly enjoying how he looked tied up and completely helpless before her. "Ya know what?" she whispered, her fingers ghosting over his skin. "I think I like seeing you like this."
"You're just now discovering it?" He let out an amused laugh, watching her mouth curve into a smile as she eyed his naked form, as if deciding what to do with him first. "Now are you just going to gawk at me, Lass, or are you going to do something with your captive pirate?"
He'd brought on his own torture and he couldn't decide if he regretted it or relished it.
She had waited a full ten minutes since truly touching him this time, kissing casually up and down his stomach and chest and neck, giving him only the occasional lick or a few quick strokes of his aching arousal to keep him at full attention as he growled at her to get on with it. She was insistent, commanding even, on being painfully thorough, taking care to suck gently at his pulse point one second and then nip sharply at his collar bone the next, sending a sinful variety of conflicting sensations coursing through him at any given time until she finally showed him compassion and touched him again.
Lick. Suck. Kiss. Nip. Kiss. Nip. Lick.
Her movements became an intoxicating, erratic pattern over every inch of his exposed body and gods, she was positively malevolent for keeping him like this for so long. His head was swimming. He couldn't remember just how many times she had skillfully brought him to edge, only to leave him dangling on the edge, slowly letting it die down before building it back up over and over.
"Emma…" her name left him in a whisper, followed by a gasp when he felt her warm tongue flick out against him. "Gods, Emma, you win. Stop teasing," he barked out gruffly in a final, pitiable effort to sound demanding and in control, but to him, his voice sounded more like someone begging for mercy.
God only knew she was the only one who could make him do that.
Her tongue flicked out against him once again, this time, the movement was more languid and long, taking her time as she worked her way from one end of his length to the other with a singular stroke. Hook cursed loudly and felt his own teeth bite into his lip, vaguely aware of her mouth curving into a smile against him.
Leave it to Emma Swan to best him again, just when he thought he knew all of her tricks.
And she had many.
"Doing okay there, Captain?" Emma teased at the sound of his breathy swear, her own breath still hot against him, her fingers tracing lines down his stomach as she looked up to meet his eyes. "You look a little… on edge…"
"What do you think?"
"Aw, what happened to my submissive pirate?" she teased lightly, lifting her head and beginning to crawl over him slowly. "I liked him…"
"He's bloody impatient," he growled, yanking against his bonds defiantly.
"Stop that," she commanded in a sharp, authoritative tone that took his breath away and sent a tingle of excitement down his spine. "Do that again and I'm leaving you here."
Hook's breathing hitched and he clamped his jaw shut, determined more than anything to not let that happen.
"Good boy," she smirked, patting his chest and then planting a feather-light kiss onto his stomach.
Hook groaned softly while internally cursing her, knowing that she was mocking him. Gods, she was too good at this for her own bloody good.
It wasn't that he hadn't expected her to be good at this. She had never failed to prove that she could keep up with him in bed, whether she was in control, swaying over him with the fluid grace of her namesake and riding them both to release, or he was above her, making her arch her back and buck her hips to meet his every thrust - but when he had mentioned her finally tying him up 'in the good way', he hadn't expected her to be so dominant. He expected the foreplay and the teasing, and truth be told, he would have been disappointed if she hadn't tortured him a bit. He had always been a bit of a masochist in the sack and as much as he loved a woman on her back, a strong woman taking control sent thrills down his spine and sparks of pleasure that went straight to his cock.
His mistake had been in the assumption that this 'torture' would lead to her climbing on top of him and sinking down where he needed her with a moan uttered through barely parted lips, moving above him, allowing him to watch her breasts bounce as she rode him. In his fantasy (one that he had created in his head as far back as at the hospital – though some of the lovely drugs they had given him could be at least partially to blame), he thought that perhaps she would even untie him at that point, desperate for his touch. He would sit up so he could thrust up into her fully, burying himself deeply inside of her, chest to chest, arms wrapped around her back, uninhibited and on fire with the passion that they always found in bed together.
He hadn't expected an hour of her teasing that kept hovering back and forth between pleasurable and torturous, to the point where the smallest of touches sent him reeling like a young man taking his first lass. He hadn't known how she had the patience to tease him for that long, he certainly would have been inside of her by now if he had any say in the matter – which quite obviously, he didn't - and he often prided himself on his patience.
"Gods, Emma!" He cried out sharply this time, simply a gasp not being enough when she finally relented and he felt her lips wrap around his throbbing length taking him in deeply until he hit the back of her throat, slowly teasing her lips and tongue up and down his shaft as she began to move.
Her tongue swirled around his tip and for a short moment, she sucked there hard and a cry tore from his throat, the build inside of him rising nearly to completion, sending his hips jerking upwards off the bed, as if his body were begging for more of its own accord. When she compensated easily for the thrust, in a decidedly ungentlemanly gesture and hoping for relief, he tried again, painstakingly slowly pumping his hips up and down, her position allowing half of his length to slip in and out of her mouth as he watched.
"Fucking hell…" he sighed the curse in a drawn out moan as everything began to tighten again, his eyes closing with relief. "So, so good, Emma," he mumbled in a slurred string of words under his breath, still letting his hips rise and fall gently, picking up the pace slightly without even noticing.
He opened his eyes to watch her again and nearly came undone at the sight of her. How he wanted to thread his fingers into her blonde hair and pump faster, the primal part of him wanting to see just how much of his cock she could take. So good. Everything about her had always been amazing in his eyes, ever since he had first met her and she had held a blade to his throat, seeing through his lies like they had been a bad joke, but this. Who was this vixen letting him fuck her mouth?
Just thinking of their most mediocre of nights together after Neverland had always sent sparks of lust shooting throughout his entire body that sent his good hand sinking beneath the laces of his leather on lonely evenings on his ship, but this… this new, more exploratory, sexually adventurous, taunting, teasing, torturous-in-all-the-right-ways Emma Swan that he had only caught glimpses of so far in their relationship made him give up his façade of dominance and bite his lip until it bled, embarrassing moans and words that spoke of more devotion than their nights together were meant to exude leaving his lips with every touch.
Just before his own thoughts got the best of him, finally, she placed her hands on his hips and stilled him, only removing herself from his length for a moment before going back to her previous combinations of stroking and sucking and his muscles tensed and his entire body shook from the waves of pleasure that were starting to come. His breathing became rapid and labored and he found himself clenching his fist tightly again, searching for something to dig his fingers into and finding nothing but his own palm.
"Yes, love. Gods... just like that. Don't stop. Don't stop." The hoarse words left him without a thought.
He gasped, his body went rigid, and he was there yet again, or at least he would be with just one more bob of her head or stroke of her hand. His vision began to darken and he could feel his face and neck grow hot from his approaching orgasm, standing on the very edge, feeling himself begin to fall until the inevitable abyss…
Without warning, cool air greeted him where her mouth had been and for a moment, the promise of release lingered there, a pool of pleasure waiting to overflow, his groin begging for another touch that would topple him over completely. He could swear that the slightest brush of her hand or lips to his tip at that moment would make him explode, but instead, she scooted back further on the bed, sitting up on her knees and just watching him, a pleased and lustful look in her eyes.
"How many times has that been now?" She furrowed her brow in thought as if genuinely curious.
"Emma, please. So close."
"Is there a problem?"
Her tone was so nonchalant and 'typical Emma Swan', as if she wasn't even affected by what she was doing, that Hook found himself jerking against his bonds again in another physical rebellion. Her cheeks were flushed, but her expression was one of amusement. Her voice hadn't taken on the low and needy tone she used when he was on top of her, when she was saying his name and begging him for more. Instead, she spoke to him with quirked eyebrow as if she were asking him what he wanted for breakfast and bloody hell, she was so beautiful and infuriating and amazing and unfair all at once.
"Did you need something?"
"You. Bloody now," he growled again, thrusting his hips upwards into the air to emphasize his point.
"Are you sure? I thought you liked this?"
When he realized that she was only taunting him, his face fell, he felt himself grow desperate and barely contained himself from begging. Instead, he took a long, shaky breath. "Oh, I do, love," he assured her in as deep, gravelly tone as he could manage, his eyes narrowing as he met hers. "I'm just thinking about you," his voice rasped slightly, giving away his obvious need.
Her eyebrow shot up and she crawled a bit closer to him. "Is that right?"
"I don't even have to touch you to know that you are positively dripping for me, darling. I can only imagine how many times you've imagined yourself sliding up and down my cock. Just let me have you, Sweetheart," he crooned, his eyes half-lidded and darkened with lust, his voice as smooth as honey.
"Oh yeah? Maybe I just want to finish you off myself," she ended her sentence with her fingertips brushing over his arousal and it was enough to make him let out a sharp, surprised grunt.
"Christ, Emma. Let me touch you, let me feel you, so wet and tight and bloody amazing." His dirty talk needed work, but he could barely form a coherent sentence at this point, so he supposed the offense could be forgiven this once. He had meant to turn her on, but once he got to describing how she would feel he let out another drawn out groan as he imagined it, slamming his head back into the pillow. "Fuck, Emma, enough!"
If she kept touching him like that, it'd be over, and part of him, a small part, still wanted it to be inside of her – even if he didn't last long. The damned siren.
As if reading his thoughts, Emma smiled a devilish smile that was pure sex and he caught his breath when he both saw and felt her lift her hips over his to straddle him.
~ASMG~
Hook woke up with a start, a warm, wet feeling greeting him between his legs. Shit. He carefully pulled back the covers and reached for the box of tissues that Emma kept on the nightstand beside her bed and proceeded to wipe himself off as images of his dream danced in his sleep-fogged head. It wasn't enough that he had her doing those things to him the night before, but his insatiable mind recreated the memories of it in his sleep. Gods, that woman was going to kill him, one way or the other. The thought brought a smile to his face. He glanced over at a peacefully sleeping Emma Swan and shook his head, marveling over how she could look so innocent in the morning, her perfectly unkempt sex hair from the previous evening making her look utterly alluring.
His eyes moved to the handcuffs that were also sitting on the nightstand, waiting for Emma next to her gun and a new idea began to form in his head. After all, he hadn't exactly been given the chance to fully satisfy her, tied up and left at her mercy.
"What are you doing?" Emma flinched as she heard one cuff snap around the wrist that was grasped gently in his hand, the sleepy haze making her wonder if this was a dream or reality. With him, she should have really known.
A dark smirk played at his lips, and his sea-blue eyes told stories of unspeakable desires as he quickly caught her other hand and repeated the action.
"What the hell, Hook?" She repeated, but didn't sound entirely upset by her new-found, trussed up state.
Slowly, he lowered his body over hers, his good hand drifting from her wrist down her body with a reverent sigh, pausing at her breast to massage it roughly and delighting at the quiet gasp she let out at the contact.
He chuckled lowly as her hips bucked against his gently, a silent plea for more.
Two could play at this game.
Fortunately, it was a game that he knew just as well as she did.
The End
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