In My Wildest Dreams
Emma Swan never believed in fairy tales or happy endings, in other people to stand by her, or in true love. She didn't even believe in herself. Fairy tales were for children still unaware of how cruel life can be, happy endings were for others. True love was a myth.
Nowadays, things are different, of course. Her son is the Truest Believer, and she co-parents him with the Evil Queen, her parents are Snow White and Prince Charming. Believing in fairy tales has become a given, and she isn't alone anymore: she has found a family, a home – love. The latter has taken her the longest to accept, to trust in, but in the end, she couldn't help surrendering to Killian Jones and his quiet persistence, his blue eyes and his endlessly devoted heart.
He covers all the bases: sprung from a fairy tale, he swaggered into her life just to never leave her side again, no matter how hard she tried to keep him out. Undeterred, he came back for her to whatever place – or time – she went, following her through different realms and realities, not afraid to put his life and his heart on the line, while never expecting anything in return. And she knew it, of course. She knew it long before the highest of all deities, the freaking Ruler of all Gods himself, sent him back to her, knew it before they passed a test in the Underworld. She knew it even before she uttered those words to him for the first time, words she'd been afraid of for so long: Killian Jones is an integral part of her very own Happy Ending, and he is her One True Love.
She can't say that being with him, being where she is now made all her dreams come true, because Emma Swan never allowed herself to have any of those. Making it through the day unharmed (physically and emotionally) has always been her number one concern, everything she ever asked for, because she knew that more wasn't in the cards for someone like her. But she can say that the life she's leading now – not counting the occasional monster hunt, villain threat or magical separation from her loved ones – pretty much fulfills all the dreams she would have had in the past if she'd dared to.
What she can also say, however, is that Killian Jones is definitely the man of her dreams now, literally. She isn't having daydreams about him all the time, but it happens quite often that she thinks about him when he isn't with her. Most of those thoughts and daydreams aren't even of a slippery nature; no, most of them are innocent and just involve simple everyday things like a peacefully shared meal, a walk in the park or a sailing trip on his beloved Jolly Roger. Because these are the things Emma has come to appreciate as not taken for granted, especially not for the Savior.
Then there are occasions, of course, when her daydreams turn into more and become fantasies of a less decent kind. Those occasions mostly come to pass when he's present, and usually it doesn't take much to make her imagination run wild. Sometimes a look he gives her is enough, sometimes it's the tone of his voice that makes the little hairs on the back of her neck bristle... sometimes just watching him fiddle with a pen between his fingers is all it takes to make her temperature rise. Then she not only wishes to push him against the nearest wall or down the next chair and have her way with him, she can clearly see all the details of it in her mind, and also feel them, which is very distracting and has her feeling uncomfortable quite a few times.
Very often that happens in the most inconvenient moments, and what's even worse – Killian seems to have an impeccable instinct for these feelings coming over her (of course he does – she's an open book, after all). Usually, he's having a lot of fun with that and loves to tease and challenge her and rile her up even more (he always makes it up to her later in the most delicious way, when they're alone, but that's another story).
But that aside, he's also the one who is often present in her nighttime dreams. A fair amount of those dreams is still angsty or sad, or just horrible nightmares, and whether it's about seeing him turn into the Dark One, leaving him behind in the oppressive depths of the Underworld or watching him die over and over again, by her own hand or someone else's, the overwhelming sensation is always the agonizing feeling of terrible loss. He has been ripped from her side, from her very hands so many times that it would be a miracle if it didn't haunt her dreams. Then she wakes up in the middle of the night or in the dawn of the early morning, covered in cold sweat and shaking, often with a tear-stained face, her restless hands desperately searching for him, clutching his shirt. Killian then has to hold her pressed closely to the safe haven of his body, letting her hear his heartbeat and feel his warmth, murmuring soft words into her damp hair while his fingers draw soothing circles on her shoulder blades until her breathing calms down again. He understands her without words – he's no stranger to nightmares either – and always provides what she needs. But luckily, the nightmares become gradually fewer and are replaced by other dreams, happier dreams.
Dreams that leave her with a feeling of peace and comfort, dreams of picnics and family reunions filled with laughter and love and lots of little hugs, dreams of happy adventures. Sometimes those occasions lie in the past, sometimes the dreams are anticipating the next upcoming family dinner. Sometimes she and Killian are sitting on their front porch, grey-haired and wrinkled, and a grown-up Henry passes by with children calling them Grandma and Grandpa, but other times they're still young, and a little girl is pitter-pattering around.
Whatever their future will be, Emma is looking forward to it and knows she'll live it to the fullest.
And then there are those other dreams.
They are the continuation of her daydreams and fantasies, the longer, more elaborate, more explicit version of them. Sometimes darker and always racier, waking her up in a sweat of a different kind. Then she lies there, all warm and tingly and wanting, blushing in the dark and fighting the urge to wake up Killian and relive that dream, at least part of it. Often enough she loses that fight and lets her hands do the wake-up call, but he never complains, he's always where she wants him, giving her exactly what she needs, and even more. Sometimes she asks herself if she should feel guilty for having those dreams, but eventually she's made her peace with them, because she realized they don't mean she's missing something, or that he's not enough for her – it's the opposite: she just can't get enough of him. And her dreams only are the vivid proof that she simply cannot get enough of Killian and his fierce passion and devotion for her, his eagerness to love her in any way she could ever imagine and desire.
Oddly enough, in many of these dreams she feels what's happening, but seems to be an outside watcher at the same time. Being able to feel and watch what Killian is doing to her has an incredible effect. What's even more thrilling is that she often can anticipate what he is going to do – not because it's predictable and always the same, but because somehow she seems to be inside his head, too, and feel what he's feeling. That is all sorts of weird, but also a huge turn-on, and hey, that's obviously the purpose of those dreams, so she's not complaining about it, especially since she's made up her mind that it's all about how much she really loves him – so truly, intensely and passionately.
Not getting enough of him, however, one night gets a whole new meaning.
In her dream, she's wearing her Enchanted Forest dress again, the one Killian loves to refer to as the bar wench dress nowadays. That attire was uncomfortable as fuck, but it did have its perks without a doubt... the biggest one being the expression of helpless hunger and adoration on Killian's face – her Killian's face, and the one of his past self as well. Which is probably the reason why the dress of the bar wench makes an appearance in her dreams quite often, and it never comes with an uncomfortable, suffocating feeling. On the contrary, whenever Emma wears it in her dreams, she feels in sync with herself somehow, invincible and irresistible. Usually, it leads to heated encounters below deck of the Jolly Roger (sometimes even at the helm, out in the open) or in a back room of the tavern, sometimes with Killian, sometimes with Captain Hook, sometimes the lines are blurred, and she isn't really sure who of the two she's with. But it doesn't really matter, now, does it?
So, when she crosses the deck of the ship this time, it feels familiar, and the skin at the base of her neck prickles in eager anticipation as she carefully descends the narrow steps to the Captain's cabin. Her heart is beating faster with every step, and she asks herself what she's in for tonight.
Two more steps, and she sees it: Captain Hook is already waiting, obviously he's been expecting her, in his full pirate garb, including the long leather coat and the red brocade vest with the embroidered black floral pattern she remembers so vividly and fondly from their time travel adventure. She has seen it again in quite a few of her dreams since then. He's casually leaning against his desk, legs crossed at the ankles, his ringed thumb hooked in his belt in that familiar trademark gesture of his, while his fingers are thrumming a lazy rhythm on the huge silver buckle.
He cocks his head and lets his gaze run up and down her body and then up again, finally resting his eyes on her face. Slowly, he runs his tongue along the inside of his teeth, just like she remembers him doing when she met him in that tavern, and her blood starts to heat up. His voice is hoarse and a tad deeper than the voice of the Killian she knows, a bit rough around the edges, and he murmurs, "Look what the Captain dragged in..."
She frowns for a second at his odd choice of words, but before she can even start to wonder, a second voice – the same voice, the one she'd recognize in a million – speaks up behind her back, "Oh, she came quite willingly."
Emma spins around and sees Killian, her Killian.
For a second, her brain is a whirling mess of confused thoughts and raging hormones when she tries to process what's going on here, and she has difficulties focusing on him, blindly staring and barely registering he's in his modern clothes.
He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows in question. "Isn't that right?" he inquires, scrutinizing her closely. Even in her dreams, there's this constant habit of him always going by her wishes. Shaking her head once to clear it from the swirling fog, she feels her lips curve into a smile as she nods once, even if she has no idea what's going on. Immediately, his features relax, and he smiles back, eyes shining bright and with a touch of that scoundrel she loves so much.
"So," Hook's voice interrupts their quiet exchange, and she whirls around again to face the other man, "are you certain you want to do this?" He, too, waits patiently for her answer, eyeing her with an almost detached, quiet interest, signalizing that she's the one calling the shots here. Well, it's her dream, after all.
She isn't certain about what she's agreeing to, but she raises her chin and replies with determination, "That's why I'm here."
The moment she says it, his expression changes impressively. He drops his head a little to give her that heavy-lidded look from underneath raised eyebrows, the look that surrounds him with that air of danger and sin, and a devil is lurking in the corners of his eyes. "You're a brave lass," he comments appreciatively, and she feels a blush creep up her neck at the tone of his voice.
"You shouldn't expect any less from my Emma," Killian tells him casually, but firmly, and his confidence in her has her straighten her back.
If she had any doubt about what is in store for her, Hook's immediate reply leaves no room for interpretation. "Our Emma," he corrects and tilts his head, "at least for tonight."
She swallows, her mouth dry all of a sudden, and he pushes away from the desk to approach her with an eager grin. There's not much space to cross, but he still manages to swagger those few steps over to her. Emma stands rooted to the spot, like frozen in place, as he slowly walks around her, drawing a circle so close she catches a whiff of him – Killian's scent, but the note of leather a bit stronger, the spicy touch a bit headier. She resists the urge to turn her head and follow him with her eyes as he passes behind her, not ready – at least not yet – to show any signs of weakness. She knows she will be plenty weak later. But the little hairs at the back of her neck bristle, and a shudder runs through her whole frame; she manages to suppress it, but she has the feeling he can sense it.
When he's ended his inspection and is standing in front of her again, he tilts his head in a close scrutiny and runs his hand over his mouth in thought, his scruff making a scratching sound against his palm. Her heart is pounding in her chest.
"So," he finally says, "princess or wench, what do you want to be tonight?"
The question is a little unexpected, and she turns around to Killian for a moment, her eyes seeking his in question. His expression is quiet, encouraging, but he gives no hint. With the calming feeling that he has her back, as usual, and will support her whatever may come, she faces Hook again, his curious blue eyes resting on her. She shrugs. "Anything... both... I don't know."
He tilts his head in a nod. "Very well. You might find there's not even a big difference, don't you think, Captain Jones?" An amused grin is sent in Killian's direction.
"I suppose not, Hook," Killian replies.
"Fine." Hook focuses on her again and raises his eyebrows. "Shall we start with setting some rules then, lass?" Emma just stares at him blankly, and he smirks. "This might be for your pleasure, and you surely will get exactly what you need, but here on this ship... I–" he interrupts himself, leans a little forward and motions his hand between him and Killian, "we make the demands, and you follow them."
A wave of desire washes over her. She always loves it when Killian gets commanding in bed, and this seems to bring it to perfection. Taking a deep breath, she swallows and withstands Hook's taunting gaze. "Okay."
He crinkles his nose in mild reproach. "As we're just getting started, my dear, I will let this pass," he declares, "but from now on you'll address me as Captain, is that clear?"
The butterflies in her belly are doing backflips now, but she's trying her best to keep her eagerness under control and just replies calmly, "Yes... Captain."
"Good girl." He tilts his head to the side and looks past her. "I think we're all going to have a wonderful time," he remarks to Killian who only nods a little grumpily in reply.
Hook turns to her again, tapping his index finger against his lips as if he's contemplating how to start. The tension inside her is building, and she wishes she could see Killian's face, but doesn't dare to look away from Hook. "So, you're good at taking orders, lass?" he finally asks, a devilish spark in his eyes.
Her insides seem to curl into a knot, resting hot and heavy low in her belly. Emma replies a little breathlessly, "Try me," and, when she sees his eyebrow shoot up, adds quickly, "Captain."
He smirks again. "Oh, I will. Let's start with something easy, shall we?" He shrugs out of his coat and lets it drop to the floor before he resumes his position, spreading his legs a little in a cocky posture, and suddenly she knows what he's about to demand. "On your knees for the Captain," he then orders, and she feels a raging blush rise to her cheeks and more heat spread in her belly. Quick to obey, without even thinking, she drops to her knees before him, her face positioned perfectly in front of his crotch, giving her the opportunity to notice the remarkable bulge filling his tight leather pants so well. She can literally feel her mouth water in anticipation at the tempting sight. Pleasuring Killian like that has always been something she liked immensely, gaining enough of a turn-on herself from it, and this... well, this is Killian. Sort of.
He hasn't told her to do anything yet, so she just waits, refusing to drop her gaze, and he chuckles darkly in appreciation. "There's a good princess," he comments and unties the laces of his pants, never taking his sparking eyes off hers. Her anticipation grows as he shoves his pants down just far enough to let his ready cock spring free. Taking it in his hand, he pumps it languidly twice, making it swell and harden even more which has her subconsciously lick her lips. "I think you know what to do," he tells her in an almost challenging voice, "Let's see if that sassy mouth is as skilled as it's pretty."
"It is," comes Killian's voice from the side, from where he's watching the scene.
Hook chuckles again while stroking his length once more from base to tip, before he lets go of it and pushes his hips a little forward towards Emma's face. "Well, no loss if it isn't," he comments, "if the wench doesn't know how to properly pleasure a man, it will be my pleasure to teach her."
I'm gonna show you, Emma thinks defiantly and reaches out for him, wrapping her fingers firmly around his base and leaning forward to open up her mouth wide, closing her lips tightly around him just below the head. With a determined push, she slides down his length, flattening her tongue against his flesh. A satisfyingly sharp intake of breath proves he didn't indeed expect that assault, but probably something of a more hesitant approach. His skin is smooth and hot and salty, the familiar, yet slightly different scent filling her nostrils, and she can feel the vein on his underside throb against her touch. She takes him in until his sensitive tip touches the soft back of her throat, and then she raises the stakes and swallows around him, determined to show him she's no amateur. He groans in response, and the dirty sound shoots straight to her core. When she pulls back just as slowly, she grazes her teeth along his length and smiles to herself as far as it's possible, with her mouth occupied like that. Then she puts both hands to his knees to give herself leverage and repeats the move a little faster this time, starting to work him in earnest, lips and tongue and teeth coming together perfectly while she settles into a steady rhythm for a while.
"Ah, now that is what I call a beautiful sight," Hook remarks hoarsely, smirking down at her. "A wanton princess on her knees, so eager to suck off a pirate." He hums in appreciation deep in his throat as he watches her head move back and forth in a quicker pace now, his cock disappearing between her perfect lips again and again. "You have the face of an angel, lass, but the mouth of a wicked demon," he tells her, his voice sounding a little strained now and not as nonchalant as he tried to look before.
Killian watches quietly from a few feet of distance as Emma curls her fingers around Hook's knees and her head bobs back and forth while she blows him well and thoroughly, sending her soft blonde curls in motion like a waterfall of silk. He knows from firsthand experience just how skilled her mouth really is, and as absurd as this situation is, he feels his own cock twitch in his pants. His alter ego growls, the vein on his temple standing out thick as he throws back his head, face starting to grimace in abandon while his hips are rocking back and forth, mirroring Emma's moves. Killian can see that she's adding some pressure by hollowing her cheeks now; her eyes are closed, and from the way her eyebrows twitch and curl he knows she's immensely enjoying what she's doing. It's almost like he can feel her mouth on himself, doing unspeakable things to him, bloody siren that she is, and working herself up in a state of impatient arousal. For a moment he's jealous and fights his urge to push away the pirate, grab Emma's hair and shove himself down her throat instead, but then he reminds himself that this is all for her, and he's sure he'll be well pleasured, too, at the end of the night.
"Don't hold back, lass," Hook growls, his breath coming in heavy pants now, "Let me provide a little help." He grabs a fistful of her hair, guiding her head and pulling her closer to him so that she has to take him in even deeper, and then he rocks his hips a bit more, thrusting into her mouth now. He's not exactly rough, but not gentle either, and she tightens her grasp at his knees to provide counter-pressure. "That's it, hold on," he pants, "good girl, take it." He makes a guttural sound as his hips stutter erratically while he's holding her head in place now, pressing himself deeper. Emma doesn't seem to mind, she never does, and groans around the pirate's cock, it's an impossibly wanton sound, and Killian feels himself harden even more; he whispers a curse and palms himself a few times through his jeans, seeking a little friction. Hook is grasping her hair tightly now, bordering on the edge of painful, buried balls-deep in her mouth, while he rolls his hips into her face a few more times, his release bringing relax to his features again.
He turns his eyes to Killian and is already composed enough again to smirk while he's still pressing Emma's face to his crotch. "You didn't lie," he remarks only a little breathlessly and thrusts his aftershocks into her mouth again twice until he's satisfyingly spilled all of his release down her throat, "that mouth is indeed very skillful." Not letting go of her hair yet, he pulls his softening cock back, and tilts his head towards Killian. "Would you like to take advantage, now that she's already on her knees so conveniently?" Of course, he hasn't failed to notice how Killian is massaging himself through the black denim reining in his erection.
As tempting as the sight is, he shakes his head once, letting his hand fall away from his crotch. "Not yet," he replies and watches Emma open her eyes, searching for him. She looks utterly debauched with her disheveled hair, flushed face and her swollen lips, but the slight concern in her eyes is evident, and he's touched that she's obviously a little worried about his feelings. So he flashes her a soothing smile and adds, his words directed at Hook, "I think the lady should get to enjoy our attentions now."
"True," Hook replies and lets go of Emma's hair, in the next moment offering her his hand in a gentlemanly gesture that could look ridiculous, given the fact that he just fucked her mouth and his pants are still shoved down his thighs; it doesn't look even remotely ridiculous, of course. "Where are my manners?" he scolds himself. "An extraordinary lass like you should indeed get our full and prompt attention."
She takes his hand and lets him pull her up to her feet, his hook at her hip steadying her for a moment before he raises its curve to touch her chin and lift her face to him. "You shall get exactly what you need, princess," he promises in a low voice and briefly squeezes her fingers in an oddly reassuring gesture, "we're going to take good care of you." With a glance past her and an almost conspiratorial grin in Killian's direction he leads her towards the desk and ascertains, "Isn't that right, Captain?"
"Absolutely," Killian replies in a thick voice and follows, taking her other hand as they slowly walk her backwards towards the massive desk.
Emma's eyes are darting from one man's face to the other one's and back, drinking in their features and their expressions, both so different yet so similar. Hook is all devilish confidence, predatory glee and eager anticipation, while Killian shows a bit of all that, too, but adds a dash of concern and sweetness, his scrutiny constantly searching her face for confirmation that she's really on board with this. Never once does she hesitate, because this is Killian; in fact, both of them are, and she knows she couldn't be any safer. Even if Hook is that bit rougher, more ruthless (not that she considers that a bad thing) – he still shows those little traits of the man she loves, tiny bits that could easily be overlooked, but she notices them... and they are proof enough to her that this will end in nothing than utter bliss for her.
She squeezes their fingers, feels identical rings press into her palms, and smiles at Killian first, then at his alter ego. "I know," she replies firmly, "I'm in the best hands."
"That you are, love," Killian agrees, and Hook nods.
"No harm will come to you while you're on my ship," he declares almost solemnly, and Emma knows he's serious, trying to reassure her – which, again, could be ridiculous, but is far from it. And then, because he's a pirate, after all, he cocks his head to the side, raises an eyebrow and adds in a husky voice, "I'm afraid, though, the same can't be said for your virtue."
She shudders in anticipation, and when her backside bumps against the solid wood of the Captain's desk, she lets go of both men's hands and lifts herself up on the desk. Killian doesn't waste any time and clears the surface with one forceful sweep of his hooked arm, sending various items to the floor with clattering sounds. His move sends shivers down her spine, as does the gleeful expression in Hook's eyes when he bends a little forward to reach down for the hem of her dress with hook and hand.
"It's good form to return a favor granted by", he pauses shortly to run his tongue over his bottom lip, "a lady." Slowly, he pulls her skirts up, revealing her bare legs, and drapes them almost meticulously over her hips, and she leans back on her elbows to give him room. He tilts his head in an appreciative nod and gently nudges the inside of her thighs to urge them apart. "Let me see your treasure," he almost purrs, and she obliges without hesitation. Needless to say that in her dreams, the bar wench dress always comes without knickers.
"Very good, Emma," Killian murmurs and brushes his lips over her right temple.
"Gorgeous," Hook comments in a raucous voice when his hungry gaze falls between her legs where she's aching for his touch, and she feels a blush warm her cheeks. The pirate runs his ringed index finger lightly along her entrance, making her gasp and clench; the minute caress has a new rush of desire flow through her veins, adding to the arousal already caused by the blowjob she's given him.
"Lay back, love," Killian prompts, and she lets herself sink on her back with him supporting her. The last thing she sees from Hook is him sinking to his knees, the view of his dark head between her thighs unfortunately obstructed by her billowing skirts. The first touch of his devil tongue coaxes a moan from her lips, and Killian smiles down at her while his fingers untie the laces that hold her corset. "I want you to let go," he tells her and uses his hook to slowly pull the laces out of their loops, loosening the garment, "No holds barred." She bites her lip and nods, relaxing against Hook's playful tongue with a sigh, while Killian pulls her blouse down to reveal her breasts, her peaks already pebbled in anticipation.
Killian bends down over her and kisses her briefly on the lips before he glides lower, his mouth finding her madly thrumming jugular vein and sucking a mark into her skin right there that has her claw at the fabric of her dress. In a brief detour, he brings his mouth close to her ear and whispers, "Don't be afraid to really get into it..."
His hand cups her left breast, the thumb stroking over her taut nipple in a slow circular motion, and his lips close around her right one the same moment Hook's mouth assaults her clit for good and starts to gently suck on it.
Emma cries out and arches her back, trying to intensify the contact of both men's lips to her breasts and her core, and both bastards chuckle against her skin. The sensation is mind blowing, the sensation of being stimulated like that, and she just can't keep still. Her lover's mouth, she knows it so well – every nip, every stroke of the tongue and suck of the lips is familiar, even the burn of the scruff... and here she feels it simultaneously in two of her most sensitive spots. The feeling is surreal, and her head is spinning. The need to touch, to anchor herself is getting overwhelming, and instinctively she reaches down, but the voluminous skirts around her hips are making it impossible for her to touch the dark head between her legs. Hook seems to sense her need for contact, because he places his hand on her hip and runs it down her leg to her knee and back up again a few times in a casual caress, like he's trying to calm her, unlatching his mouth from her core for a moment to murmur, "Easy, lass... we're just getting started."
She fumbles blindly with her right hand, and when she finds Killian's hook, she clutches it tightly and moans when he gently bites down on her nipple, his thumb drawing lazy circles around the other one.
He soothes the sting with his tongue and lips and starts to roll her right nipple between his skilled fingers. Hook at the same time alternates between working her clit with lips and teeth, using the latter very gently, twirling his tongue around her nub, then letting it flutter along her entrance when it seems like she can't take it anymore. Nimbly, he has her teetering on the brink of falling apart only to pull her back again just when she thinks she will. He downright refuses to let her crumble – yet – and it's driving her crazy, it's torture... it's mind-numbing and one of the most intense things she's ever experienced. She needs to come, desperately and embarrassingly soon, but at the same time she never wants it to end. Cursing softly, she presses her palm into the hard wood to give herself leverage. Her hips are bucking upwards again, and she feels Hook's fingers press into her thigh as he turns his head to the right and brushes his lips over the tender flesh of her groin, his stubble scraping across the sensitive skin.
Killian releases her swollen nipple with a wet pop and lifts his head to look at her. A loving smile crinkles the fine skin around his eyes. "I'm sure you can hold out a little longer," he whispers, "can you?"
She feels Hook pepper more gentle kisses across the insides of her thighs, giving her a moment to breathe, and nods wordlessly.
"That's my Swan," Killian replies and showers her chest with kisses until he concentrates again on the spot of before while Hook resumes his torture, too, and Emma's eyes flutter shut once more.
Soon and the men have settled into their rhythm again, and so has she. They are pushing her to the brink of madness and pulling her back again, never tiring in their ministrations, while she's writhing like a mermaid on dry land and making pleading noises that seem to spur them on even more. Their lips and tongues are working in perfect sync, and she longs for just that little more that will bring her release, but they don't seem willing to give it.
Hook is of course the one who could speed up things, and she wishes he would bring his hand into play, longs to feel those fingers curl inside her, as she knows they can tear her apart in no time. But all he does is hold her in place, stroking her skin with his thumb from time to time. Her hips start to move on their own accord as her moans and sighs become more urgent.
After a final swipe of his tongue, Hook unlatches his mouth from her center, and she hears his amused voice, "The lady is impatient."
Killian lifts his head, too, and it's almost a relief that she can catch a breath for a moment, even though it's kind of frustrating at the same time. He looks down at her with a warm gleam in his eyes, affectionate and with a hint of roguishness. Raising a playful eyebrow, he replies, "Is she, now?"
Emma lifts herself up on her elbows to see what's going on. "Why did you stop?" she asks in an urging voice, directed at no one in particular, yet directed at both.
Hook chuckles and gets up to his feet again, his palm lightly resting on her thigh. "See, it's like I said," he comments in that cocky tone that's always been one of the pirate's trademarks, "princess or wench, they're all alike once they're splayed out on my desk, squirming and begging for more."
Emma refrains from retorting that she hasn't begged – yet; she has a feeling that might change soon. Hook leans a little forward and bores his eyes into hers. "Much as I'd like to enjoy a little more of your exquisite taste..." He swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and then sucks its tip into his mouth provocatively. "What say you, Captain," he addresses Killian, all the while never taking his eyes off Emma's, "how about we raise the stakes a bit?"
"We definitely should," Killian replies, and Emma feels goosebumps break out on her torso.
Hook tilts his head. "She's ready to be taken," he says and waves his hand at Killian invitingly. "You should do her the honors, Captain."
Her eyes fly to him, and she sees his Adam's apple bob when he swallows thickly before looking down at her with hooded eyes. His voice is raucous and soft at the same time when he speaks, seductive like pure sin. "May I be of service to you, Swan?"
The low timbre makes her stomach flutter, and her reply comes breathlessly, but immediately, "Oh God yes, please, Killian..."
With one last smile down at her he runs his fingertips over her cheek. "As you wish."
When he takes two steps to the end of the desk, Hook makes room for him between her legs and sways out his hand in an inviting gesture, tilting his head in a little bow. Killian doesn't even look at him, he's just way too enthralled by the breathtaking sight he's privileged to enjoy. Emma is indeed splayed out on the desk, her chest bare and flushed and heaving, her skirts gathered around her hips, her spread legs exposing her where she's pink and wet and wanting, he can see it, and he can even smell it, and it makes him all but dizzy. She's still leaning on her elbows, her eyes shimmering in a dark emerald green, urging him in a silent plea.
"She's a bloody marvel, isn't she?" Hook's almost solemn voice shakes him from his momentary reverie.
He tilts his head in a nod without taking his eyes off her, "Always." Then he shrugs out of his leather jacket and lets it fall to the floor, not far from Hook's coat, before he unbuckles his belt. Emma draws in a sharp breath at this, and his anticipation grows. Already aroused by the show he was given earlier with Emma on her knees in front of Hook, pleasuring her simultaneously with his alter ego fueled his desire even more and has him rock hard now. Hearing her moans and sighs and soft curses, realizing he's the one to elicit them from her, has always been highly addictive to him, and if this time Hook helped to work her up, his scruff burn clearly visible on the insides of her thighs now, it doesn't take away any of it. Deftly as ever, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans and shoves them down, finally freeing his almost painfully throbbing cock from its strict denim confines with a sigh of relief.
He steps so close that the tips of his boots almost bump the side of the massive desk, aligning himself at her entrance without further teasing or delay. Even before they actually touch, he can feel the heat emanating from her core, and when his sensitive tip finally comes in contact with her slick flesh, he holds his breath. Achingly slowly, he sinks into her, deliberately controlling his moves, like he's afraid to lose his mind if he doesn't, and stills for a moment to exhale carefully when he's fully seated in her body. She feels marvelously tight, all wet and swollen from her arousal.
"God," Emma moans, her spine arching away from the desk.
Hook is there beside her now, taking his place, gently brushing a damp lock from her face. "I told you we'd take good care of you," he murmurs and bends down to kiss her neck.
Killian holds her firmly with his hand at her left hip and the dull curve of his hook at the other side and pulls back slowly, all the way. Even though she's incredibly wet, the friction is mind-blowing, and he throws his head back for a moment, groaning deep in his chest while he slides back in. He repeats the movement, it's a little less slow this time, but still very contained and deliberate, and Emma wraps her legs around his hips and crosses her ankles behind his back, trapping him and pulling him in even closer, and he feels that he's getting in danger of losing control with every push.
Emma's blood is singing in her ears, the amazing drag of Killian's cock along her walls driving her insane while Hook is sucking at her pulse point before bringing his lips to her right ear in a hoarse whisper.
"Have you ever had your mouth fucked by another mouth?" For a moment, she looks up at him in confusion, and he smirks. "And I don't mean kissing, love."
Then he leans down and takes her mouth with his, it can't be described in other words, possessively and firmly, and she can't help but open up for him which she eagerly does. He starts to literally thrust his tongue into her mouth in the very same rhythm as Killian thrusts between her legs now that he's found the perfect pace: languidly, slowly, and deeply. She tastes herself on Hook's lips and tongue, something that has never bothered her, and he was right, this is not kissing, it's a completely different experience. It's raw and primal, yet sensual and wanton. That he and Killian are so completely in sync makes it mind-blowing, it feels indeed like being fucked by both men at the same time, and Emma thinks she'll combust on the spot. Every time Killian buries himself in her slick, swollen heat, she moans into Hook's mouth, desperate for them to speed things up, teetering on the verge of an orgasmic explosion already. The men though seem to have an unspoken accord to keep her exactly there and not move things along for a while. She can't do anything but desperately grope for more contact, as Hook isn't even touching her anywhere with his hand, and this time her fingers find his hair, slightly longer than her Killian's, but just as smooth to the touch. She grabs a fistful of it and pulls, eliciting a very satisfied sounding growl from his throat.
Killian's moves are still steady but lazy, and he keeps holding back with every ounce of self control he has, knowing it will be a mind blowing experience for her as well as for himself if he drags this out as long as possible. While he rolls his hips slowly into her, he has the time to watch the scene unfolding before him – her skirts hiked up around her waist, her torso bared, her beautiful long legs splayed wide to accommodate him, and his cock gliding in and out in a maddeningly slow, sensual rhythm. Every time he slides home, his pubic bone grinds against her clit, swollen and sensitive, her back arches and her muffled moans spur him on even more and make it impossibly harder not to let go and ride her to completion right here and now.
Emma squirms and writhes, the fingers of her right hand curling in the Captain's already wildly mussed hair while Hook's mouth is on hers, and he uses his hook to tease one of her nipples, just like Killian knows she likes. The pirate doesn't use his hand on her, though; his fingers are wrapped around his own cock, working his length lazily but steadily in the rhythm of his kisses. Killian can see that he's hard already, and he's obviously getting himself ready for her again, having Killian wonder what he has in mind.
Emma's moans are getting more and more urgent now, but are muffled by Hook's tongue in her mouth, and it looks almost obscene how his lips slant over hers. Again, Killian gets inexplicably turned on by watching this, but suddenly, a pang of absurd jealousy hits him.
"Hook, stop," he growls and slows down his moves even more.
The pirate releases Emma's mouth, looks up and raises a questioning eyebrow, his hand not ceasing to work his cock.
"You finish this," Killian tells him roughly, "I want to take her mouth."
Hook's grin is positively filthy. "With pleasure," he replies. When Emma, who obviously hasn't noticed the exchange, tries to pull him back down again, he turns his head to the left and presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I'll be right back with you, love," he murmurs and chuckles at her whine of protest when he straightens his back.
Emma is startled when Hook's mouth is suddenly gone, and at the same time Killian pulls out of her, and she's left empty and longing. She lifts herself on her elbows and blinks, trying to focus which is pretty difficult with all the hormones raging through her body. "Wha- what is going on?" she stutters when she sees Killian step back from the desk.
His face is flushed, and he's breathing heavily, obviously his arousal not less intense than hers, but he smiles at her and offers her his hand. "Just a little change of plan. Trust me?"
She takes his hand and lets him pull her up. "Of course," she replies and hops from the desk when he indicates her to. Her skirts fall down to her ankles again, covering her slightly wobbly legs.
"Good." He brushes his lips over her knuckles, then passes her hand on to Hook and steps away.
Emma's eyes fly to Hook's face in question and anticipation, and he gives her that devilish smirk that always had her insides turn to mush since she met him – Killian – for the first time, before he gives a quick, surprising pull at her hand that has her almost stumble that last step forward and bump into him. She steadies herself with her other hand against his chest and marvels for a second at the smooth feeling of the red vest against her fingers. Their faces are so close now that their noses almost touch, and she can't help but drop her gaze for a split second to look at his mouth that just ravished hers so thoroughly.
He lowers his voice to a deep hum. "I think we've all earned ourselves some relief now, don't you think?"
She can only nod and swallow at this, her excitement sitting like a tight lump in her throat. Her body is tingling all over from the insane stimulation she got so far from both men, and she wants nothing more than finally reach that cliff now to jump off and throw herself completely into the fire.
Hook tilts his head in a commanding gesture. "Turn around and bend over the desk, princess, down on your elbows."
Emma swallows again, but then obliges eagerly, slowly turning away from him. She bends forward across the desk, incredibly turned on by Hook's words and his tone. Her gaze falls on Killian who is slowly pacing back and forth in the cabin with his cock still free and standing to attention. He's eyeing her hungrily, shooting a bolt of lightning right to the pit of her stomach and then lower, and gives her a tiny nod. Carefully, she lowers herself down and leans on her elbows, her fingers curling around the edge of the desk. She hears the dry rustle of fabric and feels the cool air against the newly exposed bare back of her thighs when Hook lifts her skirts once more.
"Now spread your pretty legs for me, lass," he orders, and with a deep breath she does, but it's obviously not to his entire satisfaction. With a loud smack, his hand lands on her ass, and she gasps in surprise at the sting. "Wider," he growls. More warmth rushes to her center, and she obeys and shifts her legs apart a little more. He leans in close, pressing his front to her back, and his hot breath licks over her throat when he asks in an almost incredulous voice, "Did you like that?"
"Quite possibly," Killian throws in hoarsely, and his alter ego chuckles darkly.
Emma doesn't reply, she can barely concentrate on keeping breathing, and another sound slap is delivered to her right cheek, sending a bolt of heat straight to her core where she's still tingling from the sensation of Killian's cock inside her mere minutes ago. "Answer me!" Hook commands sternly. "Say it."
The moan she let out the moment his palm made contact with her flesh again should have been answer enough, but she knows this isn't what he's after. It surely spurs him on, though. "I'm waiting," he growls and slaps her left cheek again, hard enough to make the sensation teeter perfectly along that fine line between pleasure and pain.
"Yes," she gasps, finally finding her ability to form words again, "yes, I liked it!"
He leans in again, his lips against her ear, and whispers raucously, "The moment I saw you, I knew you were a naughty one, m'dear. I should take my leather belt and do it properly, but for now, my cock has other plans." To make his point, he rolls his hips against her butt in a dirty grind, and she hisses at the sensation of his coarse body hair against her sensitized skin. The plans of his twitching cock, however, are evident; and Emma has no intention to object in any way. She whimpers in a plea and pushes back automatically in search for friction, more desperate for her release now than ever .
"I know," he replies, "I know. Now let's not forget about good form... ask nicely for what your heart desires, princess, don't be shy."
She closes her eyes, the rush of the blood in her ears louder than the splashing of the waves against the ship. "God... please..." she begs now, devoid of all shame.
"Please what?" His rough palm slides almost tenderly over her tingling flesh, "I'll need you to be a bit more specific, lass."
Her gaze flies to Killian who is standing only a few steps away from her, quietly watching them, his fingers wrapped around his throbbing length. She's thrilled to see his eyes sparkling devilishly, and he tilts his head in a barely perceptible, encouraging nod. He is definitely approving of this. "You heard the Captain," he says, deep and gravelly his voice, and Emma leans heavily down on her elbows as her knees feel too weak to support her any longer.
"Please," she repeats, almost sobbing with need, "fuck me, Captain. I need you." Her eyes search for Killian's again when she adds, "I need you both."
"Hmmm," Hook hums in contentment, "see, that was easy. Whatever you wish for will be granted." He seizes her hip, his fingers firmly pressing into her flesh, and lowers his voice even more, as if he knows exactly what that dark, husky murmur does to her. "But let me just clarify," he tells her pointedly, "We're done with slow and languid. I'm going to ride you hard and fast now, princess, like the wanton wench that you are, and when I tell you so, you will open your pretty mouth for Captain Jones, do you understand?"
"Yes," she pants impatiently, "yes, Captain!"
"Such a good wench," he praises and, with a roll of his hips, drags his length along her core, coating himself in the vivid proof of her arousal. An almost feral growl rumbles deep in his chest, full of obvious appreciation. "Gods, you're so wet, you really liked that punishment, didn't you?"
Before she can deliver a reply – probably he doesn't even expect one – she feels the swollen head of him nudge her entrance as he aligns himself. She has barely the time to draw a deep breath and brace herself before he slams into her, making her cry out. "Ah, so this is what you want," he comments the colorful mix of curse words and pleas that falls from her lips. He stills inside her for a moment, before pulling out almost completely and slamming back in again. "Let me tell you, you feel amazing around my cock," he says, and his voice is slightly strained again, a bit like he's speaking through gritted teeth. He repeats his vicious move a few times mercilessly, making her cry out every time, but then his strikes are gradually coming faster, and she starts to pant and moan. Hook's filthy words of praise make her feel like she's melting on the spot. His ringed fingers dig into her hip as he thrusts into her hard and fast now, again and again, while the noises she makes become louder and louder and sound like they're not from this world.
Killian watches with fascination, and the sight of Emma being ravished so thoroughly by his alter ego does things to him he never thought possible, but he doesn't find the energy – or any reason, for all that matters – to feel guilty about it. Her gorgeous breasts swing in the rhythm of Hook's pushes, and her face is flushed and enraptured in pure ecstasy as the Captain relentlessly drives into her from behind. Killian pumps his cock in the increasing rhythm of the pirate's deep thrusts and takes a step nearer.
"That's good," he murmurs hoarsely, his hand moving faster, "isn't it, Swan?"
But Emma is unable to reply, she seems completely lost in her own world of pleasure, but her guttural moans are undeniable proof that she's very much here.
"Every wanton princess's wet dream, isn't it," Hook states more than he inquires as he continues pounding into her, "being bent over a desk and thoroughly fucked by a pirate. Well, the fates are smiling upon you, lass." He slides his hook around a thick strand of her hair and wraps it around the metal in a deft move, pulling her head back. "Open up, darling," he commands.
Emma looks up at her True Love, her eyes hooded with lust. "Killian, please," she pants and reaches for him, and that's when he snaps.
"Bloody hell, Emma," he growls and guides his cock to her open mouth, his fingers entangling in her disheveled hair the moment Hook lets go of it. He's too far gone to do this gently, but she doesn't seem to mind, judging by the newly added wantonness of her moans at his first thrusts. He fists into her hair and fucks her mouth deep and fast in the same rhythm Hook's cock is pumping into her. Her cries are muffled by his flesh now, but he can still hear by the high-pitched tone of her voice that she's close, and so is he. Finally, he explodes into her mouth with a groan in the same moment that she collapses on the desk with a cry, and Hook thrusts twice more before he follows and spills himself inside her.
For almost a minute, the room is completely quiet except for the sounds of their heavy breathing, still mixed with pants and gasps here and there, coming from all three of them. This ride has left none of them unaffected.
Emma is seeing stars, her nerves are singing everywhere in her body, and all her senses are just overstimulated. She doesn't even notice when both men pull out of her again, her head is spinning too much. She has the feeling that she can barely catch air, her lungs are begging for oxygen, and she tries to push herself into a standing position but fails miserably; the muscles of her arms and legs are vibrating uselessly.
"Come here, love." A strong arm is wrapped around her waist, and then Hook pulls her up gently. He holds her almost carefully against his chest while Killian is tucking himself away, and she can feel his still erratic heartbeat. "Breathe," he murmurs, "just breathe." Gradually, she calms down, and he tells her quietly, "Killian Jones is a very lucky man." His hand glides a little higher, and his ringed thumb trails the curve of her sweat-covered lower ribcage in a casual caress that could have easily gone unnoticed, but Emma doesn't miss it, even though her head is dizzy, her veins still full of adrenaline. Hook's touch lacks any sensual quality, and that's not a bad thing at all; surprisingly, it's purely soothing.
"Time to get some rest," he almost hums into her ear while she lets her head fall back against his shoulder, completely spent, unable to answer but trusting he'll support her. "Your legs are shaking." His low voice is bare of all smugness but tinged with a hint of tenderness instead, which has her smile to herself quietly and knowingly. There has always been a bit of Killian Jones in Captain Hook, and vice versa.
Killian rounds the desk and reaches out for her. "Emma, are you–"
"Better lay her down for a moment," Hook advises and lets only go of her once he's handed her over safely and Killian pulls her into his arms to lead her across the small cabin to the narrow bed. She finds that her knees are indeed a little weak and holds on to his arm that's steadying her to secure her steps.
"I got you, love," he assures and brushes his lips across her damp hairline, and then she sinks onto the mattress with a sigh, pulling him with her, tucking herself against him.
She can feel sleep reach out for her and murmurs in response, "I know."
The last sensation before she drifts off is the coolness of a damp washcloth on her skin and Hook's soothing voice, "There, there, princess, it's all good. All good."
When she wakes up, slowly drifts into consciousness, it's dark in the room. She's still curled up snugly against Killian in her favorite position: her head tucked in the crook between his shoulder and his jaw, her leg thrown over his, and her hand resting at his hipbone. She notices that the voluminous dress is gone, as are his clothes – all replaced by comfortable jersey nightwear, which seems... odd. It takes her a few moments to realize that they're at home in their own bed, and not on the Captain's narrow bed on the Jolly Roger. Obviously, there's no Captain either.
She snorts an embarrassed little laugh and turns her head to hide her hot face against Killian's scruffy neck while he's sleeping so peacefully and innocently, unaware of the roller coaster she just went through in her dream... her very vivid dream. She might have fantasized a mind-blowing orgasm only seconds ago, but waking up right during the aftermath has her burning with want. Suddenly, she becomes aware of the throbbing warmth and the wetness between her thighs, and almost as if they have a will of their own, her hips roll forward, pressing her aching center against Killian's thigh. She sighs and draws a deep breath that fills her nostrils with his warm scent, fueling her desire even more. When she repeats the move, he shifts a little in his sleep and mumbles something unintelligible. Encouraged, she lets her hand stray from his hip and smiles to herself when she finds him half-hard underneath his sweatpants. She cups him a little firmer through the soft fabric and grinds against his leg again, turning her head so she can nip at the side of his neck, tracing that constellation of freckles with her lips and tongue.
As a reaction, he groans softly and rolls his hips a little upwards, rutting into her hand. Slowly, he seems to drift into consciousness. "Swan?" he murmurs and runs his hand up her thigh that's still thrown over his.
"It's Mrs. Jones now," Emma whispers and bites lightly down on his earlobe. "I think you need a little reminder..."
Killian chuckles in the moonlit darkness, his voice still thick with sleep, but he's obviously very awake now. "Again?" he asks pointedly in mild amusement and squeezes her behind.
"Are you complaining?" she teases, perfectly knowing he isn't.
"Far be it from me," he replies and turns his head to face her and capture her lips for a slow and thorough kiss that burns with barely restrained fire. "But you should remember one thing, Mrs. Jones..."
She smiles widely and lets go of the now fully erect bulge in his pants to cup his scruffy jaw instead, tenderly running her thumb across the faint scar below his eye. "And what's that, Captain?" she asks with tenderness.
He leans his forehead against hers, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "You'll always be Swan to me."