Remember that one time I said I wasn't going to write anymore one-shots. yeah me too.
Slight spoiler warning ahead...
This fic is based off the newly released pictures for 3x12...takes place in NY…kinda made it vague for a reason (that reason being we have no clue what the hell is going on in NY). Mature content.
Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT
Please review! :)
"What is it you want from me?"
Emma said nothing as he spoke the words quietly, wasn't really sure how to respond as his breath fluttered hot against her before his mouth, resting at the base of her throat, began to slowly move—her heart skipping a beat, her legs shaking almost uncontrollably.
God this was a bad idea.
Hips rocking into hers, pushing her up against the door, his lips dusted across her neck, the scuff of his beard scraping the sensitive skin there as she bit back a moan, refusing to allow him to see how easily she was unraveling—his touch awakening something inside of her that had apparently laid dormant for years. Fisting her hands into his hair, she forced his head up; finding his lips, she caught them between her teeth, biting down lightly before soothing quickly, her tongue taking advantage of the soft grunting noise he made and sweeping in—the taste of warmed rum and spice invading her senses as she nearly devoured him whole.
She should stop now.
Her mind struggled to keep up with their actions, attempting to slow her down, reminding her that there were things that people were counting on her to take care of, things that needed her complete and unwavering attention, things that were more important than a quick fuck in a hotel room. But try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to push him away, couldn't bear to whisper for him to stop as his good hand dipped low to trace the waistband of her skirt, a shudder rippling down her spine as his fingers gently teased her.
She hadn't meant for things to go this far.
A quick drink, some quiet company, and then they were supposed to head back to their hotel—she in her room and he in his.
So how had one drink turned into a few, how had his unavoidable presence turned into a much-needed confidant—spilling her secrets, voicing her fears? It wasn't supposed to happen like this, yet another tender reassuring hug turned into a soft and tentative kiss, the sparks of need and desire roaring hot as flames of lust quickly consumed them both.
She shouldn't have let things escalate so quickly, a gentle tug on his hand, a quiet and terrifying walk back to the hotel.
And yet, here they were; her hands urging him closer, his fingers moving even lower—legs trembling as wet heat pooled between her thighs. And for the love of all that was holy, she couldn't bring herself to tell him to fucking stop.
"Emma." He lifted his head; eyes impossibly and vibrantly blue in the dim light of the dark hotel gazed down at her, silently searching, even as his fingers continued to brush her skin, moving lower to play with the hem of her skirt, the action causing her to breathe in sharply as her pulse skittered and raced. "Emma…"
"Shhhh…" she hushed him softly, her neck straining upwards, her fingers gripping his hair tighter to bring him in for another heated kiss.
But he resisted, damn him he resisted, his eyes flashing with something unreadable as his good hand trailed down to her hip, his stump settling on the other side of her body to hold her firmly in place, his grip unyielding. And as she briefly relented, she noted with a dim sense of dark amusement and a quirk of an eyebrow, that the slightly chastising touch still caused the heady flames of desire to stir within her—their bodies still touching, their breaths still mingling. "Sweetheart…I need to know…dammit Emma are you sure?"
Leaning back against the door, putting some space between them, her eyes fluttering closed, her arms falling limply to her sides, a short huffing breath escaped her lips as she tried to steady her heartbeat and attempted to collect her racing thoughts. And realizing, with little surprise and a small self-deprecating smirk, that she could do neither, she merely shrugged her shoulders, the action hinting at a confidence she didn't feel as a tight humorless smile tilted the corners of her mouth upwards and she raised her gaze to meet his once again.
"No." she whispered, her tone defeated, her voice quiet. "No I'm not sure. But I don't want to stop…not-not now…not tonight" And without saying another word, without explaining what she meant, without waiting for him to ask anymore questions, without allowing the stupid voices in her head to cry and shout and talk her out of it, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Clasping her hands behind his head and pulling him down, she ignored everything inside of her that was protesting her decision and instead concentrated on everything that screamed and cheered and conceded that she needed it…
Him.
He muttered something into her lips…something that sounded a lot like a halfhearted attempt at refusal. But unwilling to take the time to decipher his words, knowing that over thinking things would only send her back to her cold and empty bed, she merely arched her body into his, pushing away from the door and guiding him backwards, ignoring his mumbled curses and frustrated oaths as they shuffled and stumbled across the room.
No turning back.
When the back of his legs hit the mattress and he growled deep in his throat, his hesitation seemingly gone as his fingers yanked the bottom of her shirt up suddenly, his muffled hum of appreciation filtering to her ears as she took the task into her own hands and tugged it over her head; she felt a part of her relax, welcoming his desperate touches as his good hand yanked at the zipper of her skirt, dragging it down—his voice gruff and harsh mumbling something about the bloody sinful garment into her neck.
This was what she needed.
She had always assumed it would be just like this—she's be lying if she claimed she'd never thought about it before—clothes flying all over the place, their touches hot, frantic, and delicious, seemingly everywhere at once.
So it didn't bother her, not really, that he had her naked and stripped bare within seconds—her boots tossed over his shoulder, her leggings discarded impatiently. Eyes blinking rapidly, she ignored the pulse of panic in her brain as she found herself quite suddenly on her back, legs spread wide to cradle him, his already hard and throbbing length teasing her wet folds.
"Emma." Her name, spoken quietly, reverently, drew her attention up to him, and holding her breath she tried to disregard the feel of his skin, hot and slick against hers, as she waited for him to continue. "What is it you want from me?" he whispered it softly, the words ghosting out across her lips, lingering there as his repeated and somewhat devastating question hung in the air.
What did she want?
She wanted to trail her lips over every taut and tight inch of him, discovering each of his raised scars, running her tongue along the particularly painful looking ones and memorizing their story with her mouth. She wanted to feel his teeth digging into the skin of her thighs, branding and marking her as he kissed a hot path up to where she was dripping for him and needed him most, his lips closing over her clit, his fingers plunging into her heat. She wanted to taste him as he came undone, spilling himself into the back of her throat as she looked up at him and watched his pleasure play out over his features.
She wanted it all.
But knowing that she couldn't wait, aware that she wouldn't last, fairly certain that he couldn't…wouldn't…either; she opted for silence. Swallowing her wants and needs, she took instead—her hand reaching down to grasp his cock, her fingers tightening when he stiffened above her.
"Emma this isn't just….you need to know…"
"Shhhh." And hushing him for the second time that night, blinking back the prick of tears and the growing panic at the implications of his murmured and incomplete words, she wrapped her legs around his waist and tilted herself upwards, guiding him home. Eyes closed and body arched, a small and strangled sound tumbled from her lips as he slowly, so painfully slow, entered her.
Stretching, burning, taking.
"Jesus." she could barely breathe, could barely think—her skin on fire, a soft hum buzzing in her ears. Sinking further into her, his cock dragging along her walls as he seated himself deep, a low groan rumbled from his throat as she tightened her legs around him—her hands bracing on his shoulders, her body fighting to adjust. "Jesus…God…Christ."
Too intense.
They had to stop.
Pulling out of her slowly, drawing a whimper from her as her body both protested and welcomed the loss, his good hand came to a rest near her head—fingers grasping the tangled sheets there as he stilled above her. Glancing down at her, his expression hovering between pleasure and pain, his eyes quickly sought out hers—vibrant and hypnotizing and threatening her undoing. It wasn't fair, it wasn't safe; and averting her gaze she shook her head slightly, trying to focus on a spot over his shoulder, disregarding the way her entire body ached for more. For him. And as she felt the pull between them, his silence begging her to look at him…to see every single thing he felt…she weakly fought against him, not wanting to get lost in his stare, fucking terrified of what she'd find there.
But as the seconds dragged on into minutes and her body began to move restlessly under his, unable to deny him, suddenly incapable of refusing him anything, she raised her eyes to his…
And fell.
Gazes locked, chests heaving, hearts racing, she struggled to breathe, feeling as if all the air had been sucked from the room; her throat tightening as his eyes—too knowing, too perceptive—held hers.
Stripped.
Exposed.
Vulnerable.
Weak.
She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, unblinking, unmoving; his length pulsing lightly inside of her, her legs quivering around him.
But suddenly, abruptly, she couldn't take it.
It was too damned much for one person to take.
"Just…God…just fuck me will you." She hated the way her voice cracked with the demand, thoughts she didn't want, terrifying thoughts, swirling in her brain—his unwavering faith, his unyielding commitment…
His unspoken love.
"Please." She shook her head, trying to chase the revelations away, unwilling to accept them, unwilling to believe them. She didn't understand it, she didn't deserve it…not now, not ever.
Couldn't allow herself to.
Dangerous.
Too Dangerous.
"Please." She whispered it again, quieter this time, a little more desperate, a little more defeated. Her hips lifting of their own accord, she drew him back in, the spark of pleasure that lit within her causing her to gasp as he shifted between her legs, responding almost immediately and rocking into her lightly. "Oh God, please…Killian please."
His entire body stilled, his muscles going rigid beneath her fingers as she spoke his name in a quiet and broken tone.
Killian.
It wasn't as if she had never said it before, lately he had been reminding her of it all too often, quipping here and there about how he hardly thinks it's inconspicuous for her to call him by his moniker. But even so, she could sense the change in his body as her breath, carrying the name, washed over him, her lips trembling slightly with the word as he pulled back to look down at her.
His eyes.
Those goddamned eyes.
Three hundred plus years of pent-up frustration, of need, of desperation, of loneliness flashed in those eyes…
And she watched, with a dim sense of awe, as he shook, shuddered and fell.
And she couldn't help but wonder if she was catching him or crashing and burning right along side of him…
"Emma."
A curse, an oath, a prayer, a plea.
He whispered her name; a combination of all of the above spilling from his lips as he began to suddenly move, pushing into her and pulling out before plunging in deep again, taking her hard, taking her fast, taking her desperately.
It should be embarrassing, the way with just a few quick thrusts she felt a telling and familiar pressure begin to pool deep within her belly, signaling the fast approach of her impending orgasm—her breathing coming in faster and her legs locking around him tighter. But it had been so long for her…too damned long…and she couldn't bring herself to feel any shame. And she knew, as his stumped arm snaked behind her, pulling her up so that her chest was flushed against his, their foreheads brushing and their pants and whimpers and moans mixing; she knew, as he continued to fuck her into the bed, his movements alternating from almost too deep to nearly too shallow, that he was just as lost, just as far gone as she was—teetering on that thin edge of control.
"Come with me." He whispered it, thrusting into her hard once, twice, his hold on her tightening, pulling her even closer, his lips parted, breath dancing across her own open mouth as his cock slid in and out of her again and again.
"Yes." She couldn't manage anything else, only acceptance, only confirmation, and feeling her orgasm begin to bud as pleasure started to bloom, she nipped at his lips, attempted to swallow her cry, and closed her eyes as he pounded into her hard, keeping her pulled upright as his hips drove her into the soft warmth of the mattress—his cock continuing to stretch and fill her—her body still pressed into his, his forehead slick with sweat resting against hers.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god." She chanted it over and over again, gripping him tight, her walls clenching around him as her climax climbed and then ultimately reached its peak, taking her over completely—nails digging into his skin, her voice hoarse as she cried out, the feeling only intensifying as he swore loudly, a wet and pulsing heat spreading between her thighs as he spilled himself into her with his own broken nearly pained grunt.
And they were both gone.
Neither paying the other much attention, they both rode out their release; her fingers leaving marks on his skin, his hips still rutting lightly against her, their breathing coming in and out in short and huffing pants until finally, finally, the waves of their pleasure had subsided and they both laid limp, wrapped up in each other and completely sated.
For a long while she didn't want to move, unsure if she could, unwilling to acknowledge what would happen if she pushed him away and broke the hazy and somewhat numbing spell they both seemed to still be under. But as the sound of a door slamming outside echoed throughout the deafening silence of the room, muffled voices walking in the hall, a shout of barking laughter ringing out, she felt him stir, his head lifting from where he had buried it into her neck, his eyes, those damn blue and searching eyes, staring down at her and threatening to learn and expose all of her secrets.
"I should go." her voice was nothing more than a husky whisper, her words quiet and somewhat pleading, as her fogged brain struggled to figure out exactly what had happened, how she had allowed it to happen…what it meant.
There would be consequences.
Repercussions.
Pulling out of her with a soft hum, the action making her cheeks flush hot as her throat dried and narrowed, she watched as he rolled off of her, the loss of his warmth, his skin against hers, bringing a crease to her brow and an unconscious frown to her lips. Settling next to her, chin tilted up, eyes fixed on the ceiling, he pillowed his good arm beneath his head, sparing her a slow and lazy glance before averting his gaze once again.
"You could stay."
It was funny, the way her heart clenched with the statement, her stomach nearly bottoming out, her eyes widening slightly. And she realized with a vague sense of terror masked only by a nearly overwhelming feeling of awe…that she wanted to.
Goddammit…she wanted to.
"I…I should clean myself up and…I need to get back to my room…I—"
"Or...you could stay." His lilting voice was soft; his eyes had left the ceiling again and were staring at her, looking through her, stripping her down, challenging her to deny him…to deny them…while simultaneously pleading for her not to. And as she let herself get lost in his gaze, her heart pounding in rhythm with the racing and scattered voices in her head, each one muffled against the other, she felt her resolve waver as the more selfish and slightly needy part of her slowly and loudly made itself known.
She wanted to stay.
Glancing towards the door, staring at the thin stream of light that filtered through the tiny opening at the bottom, she drew her lower lip into her mouth, chewed on it lightly, and tried to focus on the reasons, every single confusing and shitty one of them, that had landed her here with him—in this city, in this hotel room—in the first place. She tried to remember everything that that she still needed to do, everyone who was still counting on her…on them.
But try as she might, with his warm body laying next to hers, her skin still buzzing and tingling, her pulse still racing erratically, she couldn't bring herself to care…not tonight.
And expelling a shaky breath, turning to him, her gaze roaming over him slowly and drawing up the length of his body, over his chiseled features before coming to a rest on his eyes, she felt the last of her resolve melt away as she nodded mutely, embracing the part of her that celebrated her decision and ignoring the part that vehemently protested it.
She needed this.
Him.
Not quite believing what she was doing, not really ready to accept it, she settled in next to him and tried to swallow over the sudden thickness in her throat when without a word he pulled her to him, tucking her against his chest and wrapping his arms firmly around her, still saying nothing as he dusted a light kiss in her hair and tightened his embrace.
"Not all night…just…just for a little while." she whispered, wondering if he could feel the way she was trembling against him, infuriated with her body's reaction to her decision to stay…to him—her mind trying to frantically place the last time she had allowed a man to hold her.
And as she tried to force herself to calm down, her eyes refusing to close, her body refusing to relax, she heard him take in a deep breath, the sound of his heartbeat steady and soothing against her ear.
"What is it you want from me?"
She knew he didn't expect an answer.
So she didn't give him one…
Not right away.
But as her silence dragged on, as the screeching noises of the muffled city traffic filtered up to their room, as her body finally began to relax and warm, as his breathing began to even out and his hold on her loosened fractionally, unaware if he was still even awake, uncertain if she even cared, she couldn't stop the answer that spilled from her lips in a undeniably frightened and somewhat ashamed tone—the sound, damning and humiliating, nearly echoing throughout the darkened room.
"Everything."
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