He was a pirate! The captain of the most beautiful and trustworthy ship to ever set sail! And here he was, in the most ridiculous brown and beige coat he'd ever have the misfortune of laying eyes on, not to mention the sever lack of his cherished jewelry, standing at the alter and waiting for hisblushing bride—because a princess thrown into an arranged marriage would be so blushing. (Killian had to force himself to not roll his eyes so far back into his head it would give him a headache for the next week.)
He must've been fidgeting, or showing signs of wanting to bolt, because a sudden warning growl sounded just to his left where he knew those bloody dwarves were seated. The angry one—he didn't care what his real name was—was most likely the one to blame. Killian was ninety-five percent certain he was tasked with keeping the pirate in line since he was captured. Without moving beyond his gaze drifting to the dwarf, his lip rose in a silent snarl, not even a hint of intimidation in the motion. He wanted to run, to get away from this blasted kingdom and the bloody king who'd somehow managed to capture him.
How the hell had he not seen the men hiding in the trees just outside the palace? No one was that good to get one up on him. It was luck. Misfortune on his part. All the treasure he'd taken had weighed him down in his flight out of the vaults. It was in no way because this Robin Hoodand his men had outsmarted him.
Suddenly the doors at the far end of the hall opened, snapping Killian out of his thoughts. This was it. This was his doomed fate. His pathetic ending. These were the last moments of the fearsome and ruthless pirate captain before he was turned into the unwilling protector of the crown. Damn him and his survival instincts driving him to agree to the king's offer to wed their daughter and protect the kingdom in exchange for his life. He wondered, for half a moment, what this princess of theirs was getting in return for marrying a pirate.
As King David walked down the aisle, his arm looped around his daughter's, Killian was allowed his first look at the woman he was being forced to marry. Of course she'd be wearing a veil to cover her face until she was standing in front of him. If he wasn't such a gentleman, he really would've rolled his eyes at this point, completely fed up with this farce already.
His stormy blue gaze—which seemed to have taken on an even stormier shade since his capturing—met David's warning one, the reminder that his life was on the line and he best behave. With a huff through his nose, Killian begrudgingly took the princess' hand when it was offered to him and turned to face the officiant. He didn't miss the harsh squeeze to his hand, enough to make him want to wince. She was apparently just as disinclined to be here as he was.
Killian Jones was not prepared for what came next; no matter how strong his resolve may be nor how disinterested he was in this whole situation aside from the assurance of his own life. What was hidden beneath that snow white veil was beyond anything he could've ever imagined. Of course, he'd heard stories of the princess' beauty and how it easily surpassed her mother's. (Once upon a time, the pirate had seen the princess from afar when they were both just children, well before his days of piracy, but her looks were the last thing to cross his mind then.)
With the sheer fabric pulled away from the princess' face, his heart surely skipped a beat. Bloody hell she was beautiful. And there was a glint of something in those bright jade eyes of hers, hidden behind the extremely fake happiness. Something that he could've sworn promised mischief. He wasn't sure if it was that or the obvious pride that the blonde carried herself with even as they stood there, but his body was reacting to whatever it was; his blood began to boil, palms suddenly sweaty, and his trousers were certainly a little tighter than they'd been two minutes ago.
The service went by in a blur, the pirate finding it nearly impossible to pay attention to the man in front of him. He could swear he caught the princess—Emma, he finally remembered her name—watching him out of the corner of her eye, and wasn't sure if he had seen the corner of her lips turn up in a pleased smirk (the action was too minute for anyone else to see it) when her eyes drifted down his form. Bloody hell,she knew what she was doing to him. And Killian was dead set on believing she enjoyed it more than a princess being forced to marry should.
When they were queued to kiss, to seal the ostentatious and false vows they just recited (which Killian doesn't remember, thanks to a certain blonde and her uncanny ability to thoroughly distract him with her smirks and knowing glances), he'd every intention of leaving the most fleeting of touches to her lips. Emma surprised him by solidifying it, and forced him to suppress a moan when she managed to nip his bottom lip without anyone seeing. Pulling back, her eyes were as dark as his surely were, a look that promised many things once they were alone.
Just like the ceremony, the reception dinner after went by in an even quicker blur. Except for the moments where Emma touched him, even fleetingly, or spoke, sometimes her words were aimed at their guests and sometimes aimed at him. The ones meant for him were the worst.
"You don't look well, husband," she offered up at one point, that knowing smile still gracing her lips. She'd the audacity to place her hand on his knee as well.
"It's nothing I can't handle, milady," Killian assured her, his voice gravellier than usual. Noticing this, he downed the last of his wine, hoping it would help. (It didn't.)
She giggled, the sound sending a jolt of heat down his spine. Tucking a loose curl back behind her ear, she leaned towards him, her voice dropping as she spoke. "You can't handle it," her words were insistent, as was the hand now gripping his thigh.
He managed to suppress another groan, his hand shooting up to clutch hers. "Behave, wife. We've an audience," Killian reminded the both of them, tilting his head towards the full ballroom.
Just as he felt Emma's hand start to move up his leg, they were interrupted by a cough from behind. Glancing over his shoulder, his hand very tightly gripping Emma's hand in the air, he spotted both the king and queen standing behind them. Stormy blues met jade, a questioning look reflected in his gaze.
The next thing he knew, the pirate was out in the middle of the room, dancing with the queen. He could feel Emma's gaze on him almost constantly, his gaze finding hers whenever he could. And then the song ended and they were trading partners, the blonde now in his embrace. Her hand tightened around his, mirroring the squeeze he'd received during the ceremony, and her fingers dug firmly—yet not uncomfortably—into his shoulder. The distance Killian held her at with his hand pressed against her back became nearly non-existent when Emma stepped closer, her body brushing against his with every movement they made.
He felt drunk. His mind going fuzzy from the touches Emma offered him; fingers kneading into his shoulder and neck, ghosting up his neck and into his hairline, her body pressing firmly against his whenever he brought her back in from a spin, sliding against his when she moved from side to side.
Her words, though, were even worse, damning him to hell.
"Is something wrong, husband?" the title was given with a purr, yet laced with her obvious dislike of having to call someone as such, whispered into his ear as the blonde pressed even closer than before. "Most men would be pleased to have the princess so close to them. Pressed against them like a well-known lover…"
"Careful, wife," he warned, his voice just as low, fingers pressing into the back of her dress. "Or I may have to forget my place as a gentleman and make that statement a truth, right here in front of all our guests."
He could've sworn he heard a moan slip past the princess' lips and he definitely felt her fingers dig harshly into his shoulder. "What's stopping you, Captain?"
"Good form," he answered simply, leaving it at that.
The rest of the evening went by in a similar fashion, Emma whispering things as they danced, their hands touching what they could in equal measure, until, before they knew it, the two of them were being ushered out of the ballroom and to their wedding suite. As soon as they were locked away inside their chambers, Killian found his back pushed harshly against the door, hands roaming up and down his chest. "There's nothing stopping you now," she purred, her teeth grazing against the shell of his ear. "So get to it, love."
His hands tightly gripped Emma's waist, fingers digging into the fabric of her white dress as their lips crashed together in a long awaited kiss, just as heated as he expected it to be. Suddenly her hands were on his bare chest, unaware as to exactly when she'd undone the buttons of his vest and shirt and felt himself pressing into her touch, wanting more. His skin burned wherever she touched him, his own hands moving in a frenzied hurry to find his way beneath the fabric of her blasted dress. He's eternally thankful that it's strapless and tied up the back. Easy removal.
Practiced and nimble fingers quickly undid the lacings holding Emma's dress together as her hands mapped and traced his chest, fingers digging into the taught muscle as if looking for more, more, more. It took a few more minutes of maneuvering around all the fabric, but they're both eventually naked as he gently pushed Emma onto the bed, his lips acquainting himself with her chest, his hands with her hips and sides as they slid up and down her body.
"Don't think this makes me any happier about being married to you," her voice suddenly rang out, making his movements falter for half a second before continuing.
"The sentiments are returned, darling," he gave back before lips returned to her skin. There was very little that could happen in this little arrangement that would make him any less annoyed with his fate.
Emma's fingers played with the hair along his chest before moving to grip his shoulders with a gasp when he wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked. He could feel the bit of flesh harden in his mouth and it only made him suck harder and gently pinch the nib between his teeth. Her back arched, pushing her body against his, and more noises fell from the princess. Killian made it his mission to bring forth as many of those delicious sounds out of her as he possibly could before the end of the night.
And, somehow, Emma managed to elicit an equal number of noises out of him as he did her; which was an impressive number if someone were to keep track. By the end of their activities, ending well into the early morning, both pirate and princess were physically content and quite sated. Killian rested on his back, eyes closed and a hand on his chest as he felt his wife move next to him and the weight of her head settle on his shoulder. They laid there like that for a time, a companionable silence surrounding them.
"How did dear mother and father rope you into this false marriage?" Killian inquired after a while as her fingers threaded through the hairs on his chest, honestly curious of her answer.
The princess was silent for a moment as nails joined in her ministrations. "They told me, with you as my husband and protector, I would be free to travel the realm at my leisure, no longer forced to stay in only the Enchanted Forest," Emma finally admitted, her voice low as her breath ghosted across his chest.
"Why not claim me as your protector then? Why go through with this farce?"
Emma shifted onto an elbow, raising her head off his chest to look down at him, that look of understanding back in her eyes. "Because we've both enough honor to know it's bad form to abandon a spouse, no matter how disinclined either of us are to having such titles."