So this was going to be all out corset smut and then I got side-tracked by another little idea. A birthday fic for the wonderful A Whisper Of Grace. Happy birthday, lovely! Hope you like! xo
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Corsets of a Different Kind
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She'd had to laugh the first time they'd slept together. He'd practically torn her shirt from her body and then just stopped, staring directly at her chest unashamedly. He'd sort of pointed between her breasts with his hook, a look of confusion on his face and asked, "What the devil is that?"
She'd looked down at the black lace, her chest heaving, hand still down the front of his pants, "It's a bra."
With narrowed eyes, he'd raised his fingers to her breast experimentally and poked, "Well how in the blazes am I supposed to see them now?"
And that's when the giggle had broken free of her because he had looked so damn helpless and confused and she'd realised how different the undergarments in their respective realms must be.
Reluctantly withdrawing her hand from his quickly hardening length, she had reached behind herself and unclasped the bra with a smile, letting it fall from her shoulders and down her arms.
His whispered, "Gods," and the pooling of heat between her thighs had caused them to forget the small moment of pause as they'd fallen together, his mouth immediately making its way towards the sensitive skin of her breast.
…
The next time they'd come across the barrier he'd tried to undo it with grace, he really had. But their motions had been raw and passionate and, fuck, he'd missed her, so he'd already been buried inside of her when he'd eventually just raised his hook to the bra and ripped it from her body.
He'd scratched her and she'd hissed in pain but it was all ignored because of the way his hips were rolling into hers and his fingers were dancing across her clit.
"Please don't leave me again," he'd whispered urgently in her ear, "I couldn't survive it."
She'd thought of the week she had spent in her icy entrapment, Elsa's magic, out of control and unpredictable, catching her up in a billowing storm and encasing her in her own eternal wintery solitude. Trapped behind mazes of solid ice, she'd near frozen to death with only her leather jacket to protect her. Her family had pulled her from the torturous world of Elsa's accidental creation, barely breathing with tears frozen on her cheeks.
Emma grasped Killian's hand and rested it atop her heart, "It's okay now, it's done now."
His thrusts had sped up, his lips replacing his hand, kissing her skin and murmuring promises there, "I'll always protect you, I'll always love you."
She'd agreed to every one of his affirmations, breathing heavily into his neck as she'd fallen apart around him.
…
He loves this time of the day, the part when she walks in the door and hangs up her coat and drops her bag and just does her little thing.
"What?" she asks over her shoulder as she begins to walk towards their bedroom.
He smiles at her from the couch, "Not a thing, lass."
She narrows her eyes, but continues down the hallway. And he waits.
This is his favourite part of the day for a reason, after all.
When she returns, she's wearing a loose fitting t-shirt and a pair of boxers. And not a stitch else.
He smiles when she sits down next to him and flicks on the TV, picking a recording of some crime busting show she's gotten herself hooked on. She leans her head back against his chest and he wraps an arm around her, relishing in the way she's so comfortable with him, that small piece of armour removed from between them.
…
Part of her thinks that her father is taking his own advice about finding the 'good moments' too strongly when he plans a ball in Storybrooke. The other part is secretly grateful that her dad wants to plan a celebration for his daughter being alive and well and engaged.
Her week frozen in ice had changed a lot of things, seeing the world pass her by and not being able to participate made her realise that she doesn't want to live on the sidelines anymore. She and Killian have a good thing going and Henry loves him as well, so when the pirate had clumsily pulled the ring from his pocket with a shaky hook, Emma hadn't even considered an alternative to yes.
A sly grin crosses her features when she approaches the pirate from the top of the docks and hears the distinct groan of approval over her clothing choices. She loops her arm through his as they make their way towards the fairy light lit dance floor that the men of Storybrooke had constructed in the grassy park by the docks.
"See something you like, pirate?" she enquires, all coy tone and batting eyelashes.
His jaw ticks and Emma can't help but let out a light laugh at his obvious discomfort, "You know what the corset does to me, love."
She arches her back just slightly, puffing out her chest, "What? You mean this?"
His eyes flick down and straight back up again as he masks another groan. "Emma," he warns.
She rolls her eyes, "You'll survive, Jones."
He makes a show of adjusting his pants, before winking at her and spinning her onto the dance floor, "Not for long, I assure."
She glides smoothly alongside him, gaining more and more confidence with this whole ball thing, especially when this particular celebration is taking place in her home realm. The deep emerald material of her gown flows around her in a sort of mystical way, the white lights above them dancing off the fabric and mesmerising him. She lets him lead as they sway with the other couples on the floor, her eye getting caught by the pearl ring on her finger every now and then.
It truly is amazing that a fairy tale is happening right here in Storybrooke; she feels as though they've somehow reached a balance between the two realms. There may be no palaces here, but the canopy of lights and the beautiful gowns make this small town in Maine feel truly magical.
"I love you," he breathes in her ear, forgoing the intricate dance in favour of holding her close to him. She smiles at his tenderness, wrapping her arms around his neck. Then in the same breath, as his hand runs up her back, he whispers, "No bra?" and she has to chuckle.
"Not with the corset."
He sighs in her ear, "How am I supposed to concentrate?"
She pulls back and winks, "You're not."
With a smile on her face, she turns away from him and saunters off the side of the dance floor, down the hill and towards the ship he had recently acquired. It may not be the Jolly, but he sees that as his past. His future is all wrapped up in newness, in Emma.
He follows her after a moment, slipping away before anyone can notice their absence, and catches her just before she descends into his quarters. "What if they see we're missing?"
She rests a hand against his cheek, challenge in her eyes, "Let them."
He kisses her then, hard and purposeful, his hand already reaching for the laces on the tight corset around her body. Emma breaks away momentarily and slips down the ladder into his room before turning her back on her pirate and moving her hair to the side, "Rip it."
And he does, his hook moving down the laces with ease, loosening the corset in a matter of moments.
She gasps at the feel of air flooding her lungs and moves to turn back around to face Killian, but he stops her, hand and hook on her shoulders, "Wait there, lass."
He's tender and slow, pulling the two sides of the corset apart and exposing her bare back. His lips find her neck and kiss their way down the curve of her spine, sending chills down that way as well, raising goose bumps on her skin.
"Mmm, I want you," she moans, her hips rocking backwards when his tongue flicks out over her tailbone.
He places his hook at the base of the corset and continues to rip down until her dress pools at her feet, leaving her standing in black lace panties and her heels. As he kisses his way back up her body, he whispers, "Much prefer this alternative to the bra," into her skin.
His hand wraps around her front, cupping a breast and rolling her nipple into a tight peak, while his hook tears through the lace covering her and comes to rest on the searing heat of her core.
She instinctively widens her stance and smiles when he leans into her, making her bend and brace herself against the wall in front of her. Reluctantly pulling his hand from her breast, he quickly undoes his pants and frees his aching cock, relishing in the way Emma gasps when his tip touches against her wetness.
"Don't make me wait," she urges, pushing her hips back into him, and he's powerless to deny her, slipping home with a groan of satisfaction.
His hand returns to her chest, pulling her flush against his and beginning to slowly thrust in and out of her. The sound that escapes her, somewhere between a cry and a breath, spurs him on, his hook moving to her hip to brace their movements.
"Gods woman, what you do to me…" His voice is a growl and she throws her head over her shoulder to capture his lips, to taste the way he speaks to her.
His hand rubs insistently against her breast, heightening every feeling of heat between her legs. It still amazes her how in tune with her body he is, how he can rock her like no one else can, can pull her apart and mend her in one breath.
She breaks away from his mouth, turning her head back towards the wall, gritting her teeth when she feels the build of arousal coiling in her lower belly. She doesn't want it to end, not yet. Because then she has to share him, has to pretend that she's alright when all she wants is to be wrapped around him just like this.
But it can't be stopped, he's too warm and strong and her heart is beating too fast and suddenly she is tumbling over the edge of oblivion, leaning herself wholly into the wall as she clenches around him and he cries out her name through his own release, falling against her back and biting into her neck before he kisses the mark he's left, soothing the reddening skin.
It's cold when he pulls from her, but he spins her around and captures her lips in his next breath, giving her warmth all over again. When he breaks away and their foreheads are resting together and she remembers that her feet kill her in these heels, she lets out a chuckle at the predicament they seem to have gotten themselves in.
"It seems, in my haste to have you all to myself, I made an error in judgement regarding my dress." She looks over his shoulder at the ripped mess on the floor and shrugs, "Suppose we'll have to stay here the night."
But he catches her before she can make her way to his bed, "Lass, as much as I want nothing more than to worship your body all night, we both know we need to attend the ball for more than ten minutes."
She sighs because she knows he's right, "The dress truly is ruined though."
A smile turns up the corners of his mouth as he pulls back, doing up his pants and making his way into the small dressing room off to the side of his bed. When he emerges there's a box in his arms, a note attached to the top.
She tilts her head in question, accepting the parcel when he hands it to her.
"I thought we might be needing this tonight."
She opens the note first, not caring one bit that she's still completely naked in front of Killian. He's the one person she doesn't have to hide from.
Because I know you like to be able to breathe.
Her eyes glance over the note a few times before she finally looks up with a narrowed gaze, "You didn't."
He smiles and nods, gesturing for her to open the box.
She pulls back the lid and her eyes widen at the gown, all sleek and black and shimmering and completely her. "Oh Killian, wow," she breathes, pulling the dress up and looking at the intricacies of the lace across the bust area. And that's when she notices it, the softness of this dress, the way it hangs loosely and flows freely through her fingers. She knows just by looking at it that it'll take her thirty seconds to slip this dress on and be ready, far quicker than the time it would take her to have a corset laced.
And suddenly his note makes sense. Because he knows that she can look and feel like a princess without crushing her ribs.
She leans into him, kissing his lips softly, "Thank you."
He chuckles at her enthusiasm and lifts the rest of the dress from the box, revealing two more garments in the bottom, "Oh lass, it's not all for you."
Setting down the dress, she picks up the black bra and panty set, smiling at his choices, the lace completely sheer and flimsy.
He shrugs as though there hadn't ever been a choice and he had been forced to buy this particular set and she just grins as she picks up the additional note in the bottom of the box.
And because I love to tear them off you.
…
Thoughts?