Just a heads up, this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written. The HBO network executives would blush. Then hire me. Also, sub/dom relationships, especially for those who aren't just "kink buddies," but an actual couple, are quite layered. The dynamics and psychology go a lot deeper than hurter/hurtie, and I tried to weave those details into the story (amid the perpetual smut).
There were only two other men she'd ever told. It was the only "weird" fantasy she had. The first guy was willing to accommodate, but he wasn't very imaginative. She had to come up with most of their scenarios, which defeated the whole purpose. When she felt the urge to play this game, it was because she wanted to give up control. To be at her lover's mercy. And if she was being honest, a little bit to show off how much she could take.
Even 'Fantasy Me' is competitive!
Emma did appreciate the first guy's effort. At least he tried, and didn't judge her. Unlike the second guy. He prodded her for days about 'letting him in' on her fantasies so damn persistently, she assumed he was ready to hear anything. So she told him.
First, he insisted she must have self-loathing issues, or that she'd suffered physical abuse as a kid. (Untrue. Even her less than ideal foster homes were never abusive.). Then he told her she should seek help regardless, because no one should get off on that kind of "sick stuff." He was the last guy she ever told. She just took it for granted she'd never find a guy she could trust enough. She'd always keep this part of herself in a box.
Until Hook.
She spent the first several months of their relationship talking herself into, then out of, telling him. A distracting cycle of nerves and frustration. They were so happy together, and having one unsatisfied fantasy wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Why risk it?
True Love is worth more than some stupid sex kink, right?!
The problem was, at the end of the day not telling him made her feel more and more like she wasn't all in with their relationship, which with anyone else would have felt as natural to her as breathing. Emma Swan hides. It's what she does. But not with him. With Hook the opposite was true. Holding back from him didn't just feel unnatural, it took actual effort. The more she tried to get over it, the more it consumed her thoughts.
When it got so bad she started to suck at . . . well . . . life, she forced herself to work up the courage to tell him. Still, when she did tell him, she didn't utter a word of any expectation for him to satisfy the fantasy. Hell no! In fact, she heavily implied it was only a part of her fantasy world, and she could care less whether or not something ever happened in real life.
He thanked her for telling him, swore he saw her no differently, and the two went on as usual.
A few days later when she came home from work to find the 'how to play' manuals of various board games scattered throughout the apartment, she was baffled. Until she got to the bedroom. On the bed was what looked like a box of chocolates that someone had painted over in black with the label 'Emma Swan's Game' written in white. When she opened the box there was a pen sitting atop a folded up piece of paper titled 'How To Play.' The rest of the page was blank. Underneath that was a small handwritten note:
I can not be a proper playmate if I don't know the rules. Teach me, and the game is on!
~Yours in all things
Killian Jones or Captain Hook, as the Lady wishes.
He proved to be a ridiculously quick study.
They chose 'lemon' for their Safeword.
Emma was certain she'd found her perfect playmate when they got to the point that all she had to do if the urge to submit struck was give him a certain look. They made a new rule at that point. She wasn't allowed to outright ask him for it, and she could only prompt him twice in one day. If he failed to catch the signal both times? Better luck tomorrow. Nine times out of ten he got it. Sometimes he'd pretend to miss a cue, then BAM! An hour or three later he'd start the game. No warning.
He first revealed that exciting new trick one idilic sunny morning while they were washing the dishes from breakfast. She'd already used up her two attempts with the look. (she usually put a few hours' space between the first and second attempt, but that morning she really really wanted to play). She put away the last dish dreading all the distracted, un-satisfied hours ahead of her when suddenly Hook stepped in front of her, pushed her to her knees, and got his cock out in front of her face.
"Suck. And remember your manners. You should be . . . ?"
"Grateful for what I'm given," she said with a shudder, thrilled by the sudden turn of events.
He pushed himself into her mouth and let out a long groan as she went right to work.
The task received all of her focus.
Bills?
Sheriff duties?
Savior duties?
Life stress in general?
They all vanished as though they never existed.
She needed to suck him correctly, that was important. The usual rule (applying only to the game, not their sex life in general) was that if she did it wrong he not only wouldn't fuck her for the rest of the day, he'd make her beg for permission to even touch herself. A reward/punishment structure was important for the game, otherwise it wasn't as fun. Hook was dubious on this point in the beginning, but he soon realized it was oddly true. Once he got his head 'round that fact, he put a lot morethoughtinto it when he doled out a punishment.
He observed Emma carefully as she worked.
She really is a diligent woman.
He knew how deep she could take it without choking, so when he said "all the way," that's what he meant. Her maximum. (If she ever took less, she'd still have to finish him, but that was the end of the game, and no game days for the rest of the week.) "Tip," meant suck the tip, "play," meant more stroking, "talk" meant dirty talk, and "take it," meant he was about to grab her head and either start thrusting into her throat, or push her mouth onto him, controlling her pace (in which case any invocation of 'lemon' was to be spelled out in sign language. Yes, his woman had learned how to spell a word in sign language specifically to broaden the scope of their play). If he gave no specific instruction, she was left to her own devices.
How can such a romantic sap be this good at something so fuck-tastically dirty? She marveled as she swallowed him.
She said thank you. He thanked her back, and ordered her not to look at or touch him until he gave permission. A few hours later, while she was folding laundry, he blindfolded her from behind and told her if she could find her way to the bedroom and retrieve their handcuffs from the drawer in under a minute, he'd allow her to look at and touch him again.
Eight months later he was even more proficient at finding the perfect edge between pleasure and torture. That edge was the sweet spot. The place Emma loved best. His first "perfect game," so to speak, started off rather interestingly.
They got out of bed and he remarked teasingly on how cold her feet had been the previous night. All his squirming away to avoid them. When he got out of the shower, towel around his waist, she was naked, and selecting her clothes as slow as humanly possible without actually seeming drugged. One item at a time. She'd set the item on the bed, then go back for the next item.
Strange behavior, but not transparently asking for anything. Within the parameters of their rules.
Hook gave it only a fleeting thought until he opened the closet door to fetch a shirt. Their 'toy box' was unlocked.
He rifled through it, selected the riding crop, and turned it about in his hand as he approached his princess. He ran it along the side of her face, stopping under her chin to tilt her head up. "Did you unlock our box?"
She nodded.
"And just exactly why?"
"I disturbed your sleep last night," she said, matter of factly. "You gonna let me get away with that?"
"Hm." He mulled things over for a moment before tucking the crop into the waistline of his towel. "I'll consider it." He sidestepped her and headed back to the closet. (he hadn't officially moved in, but he stayed over often enough to merit a portion of the closet and drawers). "Move to the center of the room, get on your hands and knees, and face the door," he ordered casually without looking at her.
The next time he stood in front of her, he was wearing black jeans and a dark blue v-neck t-shirt, untucked. He walked around her, tracing the riding crop along the outline of her body, dipping between her thighs just the slightest bit whenever he passed that territory.
Emma shivered, and her breathing shallowed as she waited for the first strike.
"Still thinking it over," he said, then walked briskly out of the room.
She remained in position, and listened to Killian make coffee and toast. When he was finished he strolled back into the room, still holding the crop. "Gotta brush my teeth." He passed by her without so much as a glance.
This was another thing Emma loved about the game. Something not at all inherently sexy (brushing teeth) could make her twitch with anticipation. (The faucet stopped running! What now!?)
He stepped out of the bathroom and approached her in the same breezy manner as before, only this time she got a sudden, solid slap on her ass.
Her body jerked. She let out a gasp.
"You've done well." he said, his voice tinged with dark promise. "Such a patient lass." He walked around in front of her and lifted her chin with the riding crop. "You really did cost me a lot of sleep last night, you know."
Emma tried not to smile as she replied, "I'm sorry."
As she gazed up at him, she saw what she'd always longed for. A partner who wasn't just going through the motions. Hook understood why she loved the game, and how much it demanded of him as well. Yes, she had to submit, but he also had to be creative if he wanted to please her. And Hook never wavered in his desire to please her, even if it meant venturing into completely new territory. Whether it was an endless flow of rose petals and sonnets that did it, or brutal cock and strict commands, if she needed, he would provide.
Anything I want, Emma thought as she waited for another strike of the crop.
He considered the sight of her kneeling there for a long time, running the crop over her shoulder blades and around her face. She leaned into the touch when it caressed her cheek, as though it were an extension of Hook's own warm, loving hand.
He sunk to his knees in front of her, and ran the crop between her breasts as he spoke. "How long do you think you could take it Swan?" He moved his mouth close to hers as the crop moved lower down her midsection. "How many consecutive minutes?"
She considered the question as he moved the crop low enough to touch her clit. He then turned it on edge to dip in and brush it through her thoroughly wet center. She began to roll her hips for whatever friction she could get, but Hook wouldn't allow it.
"Hold still!"
Her hips froze.
"Answer my question."
His mouth was achingly close. She couldn't stop staring.
"Four, maybe?"
He pressed the crop against her harder and moved his lips close enough for her to taste if she dared flick her tongue out. "Maybes are not acceptable." He murmured.
"Four!" Emma promised, "four minutes!"
He grabbed her arms and pulled her to her knees, kissing her with the same command he carried in his voice, then tossed her back on her haunches. "You'll take seven," he declared.
Emma's pulse quickened. She wasn't used to such an ambitious challenge.
Hook again ran the crop all through her arousal, and brought it to his mouth. He took in the whole tip, sucking and licking as he withdrew. "Mmmm," he moaned, eyes fluttering shut. When they opened again, he grabbed her by the hair. "Fair warning, if you invoke 'lemon,'" he enunciated the word very clearly, "I'll keep you wet all day, but you'll get no cock inside you." He smirked. "Unless you're desperate enough to go down to the pub and pick up some talentless stranger to service you."
Emma shook her head. "No," she breathed. "You or no one."
He released her hair and stood up. "Get on the bed, all fours, at the edge."
She scrambled into position, and he brought the crop down on her right away. A stinging slap on her ass. Then another, then another. Occasionally he ran the crop up and down her body, or softened his force for a few seconds, but mostly he punished her ass and back just the way she'd imagined when she concocted her plan to prompt him. Emma gasped and cried his name as he wielded the crop, sometimes bitting her lips and gritting her teeth to ride out the fire and resist her rational mind's want for relief.
Lemon. That's all she had to say was lemon, and she had absolute trust that he would stop the game instantly. Hook never failed to respect the Safeword, and by extension, her. So it was a question of 'pain of the whip for seven minutes'vs. 'no cock all day,' and she was too slick with arousal to even consider the 'no cock' option.
He was clearly impressed when she made it to seven minutes. "I knew the first time we met you were a tough one," he cooed as he gently pet her back, sweeping his hook over the evidence of his authority. "But I had no idea, did I?"
"No one tougher, pirate," she said with a flirty smile.
He guided her into the bathroom and they took a shower together, alternating between cool and warm water on her whip marked back. Hook gently rubbed her clit and praised her peerless fortitude the whole time. Emma sighed happily as his skilled ministrations, and the water, soothed her.
When they got out of the shower, she stroked his cock and asked if she could have it, since she did so well with the riding crop.
He'd done this to her a few times before. Always tantalizing.
She accepted the wait and went to pour herself a cup of coffee. As the minutes ticked by she found herself thinking about how close she'd come to never having this. A real playmate in her life. Especially not one who was in it for the long haul. Who she'd finallyaccepted would never leave her, come hell or high water.
She found out two hours later when he blocked her path down the hallway that he was willing to give her cock, but she could only use her mouth. No stroking. No pumping. No holding in place. And he would offer no assistance.
She said nothing in response. Just dropped to her knees, licked and kissed over his length until he was fully hard, then took him in her mouth. Keeping him in her mouth without the help of her hands was more of a challenge than she'd expected (especially when she bobbed upward, or tried to service the head). A few times she had to chase him down. Eventually she decided to scrap all her usual techniques, and go with a basic up-and-down, take-it-as-deep-as-I-can approach. Not fancy, but it spared her the trial of a runaway cock. Only one real challenge remained. Endurance. She wouldn't be able to stroke him when her jaw wanted a break, so how long could she go before leaving him unattended? She worried over the question as the taste of pre-cum filled her mouth. She refused to let go. After a while she resorted to daring herself to ignore the ache in her jaw for just one. More. Minute. It worked for several minutes.
Suddenly, Hook yanked back on her hair, pulling her off of him. He sighed, delighted. "I've never met a woman who could take a cock so long without a break, Swan. You must have sucked a thousand dicks before me."
"No."
"Oh," he shouted, yanking her hair back further, "so you just naturally behave like a whore then?"
Outside the game such a comment would make her rage, but within the game it sent arousal dripping down her thighs.
"I just want to make you cum," she insisted. "I love making you cum."
Hook stared down at her, biting back an amused grin. He mustn't let himself lighten the mood. At this point anything short of stone cold supremacy would break up their rhythm. The partnership of it all was still sometimes bizarre to him. To the outside observer it would, of course, look as though he was beholden to nothing but his own cock, and Emma was assigned the utterly thankless burden of servicing him. No one would guess it was Emma who'd allowed him to take on the starring role in her long unrealized fantasy.
He let go of her hair and brushed his fingers over her glistening lips. "You love to make me cum?"
Emma nodded.
His stared down at her with menacing lust. "Then let's try something new, shall we?"
Something new! She felt the muscles inside her quiver with excitement as she wondered, can I take it, or will this be my lemon?
"Tilt your head back and keep your mouth open."
Emma did as she was told.
Hook stepped forward and held his cock directly over her mouth, angling toward it, but not entering. He began to stroke himself, slowly at first.
"Don't move when I cum, Swan," he ordered. "Whatever doesn't go in your mouth, you'll lick off your fingers." he paused, dropping his voice to its dirtiest cadence, "and I'll film it."
Nope, her pulse quickened and her body flushed with heat. No lemon here.
She loved watching him become more and more willing, every time they played, to wield the power of her submission. To push her. Own her. She watched intently as his face began to clench and his stroke quickened.
She squirmed, preparing herself.
"Good lass," he mused as cum shot in her mouth, just beneath her mouth, and one shot landing mostly on her cheek. He pet her hair lovingly. "Your mouth has so many fine uses."
She swallowed, smiled, and placed her hands in her lap. "How do I look?"
"Filthy," he purred as he pulled the phone from his back pocket. "Filthy and fantastic. Exactly as I imagined. Better. You should be proud."
She was. She licked her lips and waited for him to begin filming. On his cue, she ran two fingers along the under side of her mouth and slowly lapped up every trace of him with a satisfied sigh. Then she went to wipe off her cheek.
"Oooooh," Hook sighed, crouching down to get a better view.
"Did I get it all?" she asked hopefully.
"You tell me," Hook replied. "I gave you that cum. Taking care of it is your job." She searched around her face for more while he went on. "I know it's easier when I cum inside you princess, but sometimes you do have to work."
She found one last drop, and as soon as she had it swallowed Hook dropped the phone and crushed her against his mouth, thrusting his tongue against hers as if demanding it participate. She panted and gasped as it went on. He'd angle her one way, then another, then another. It seemed endless.
Finally, he pulled back with a lopsided smile. "It's always interesting to taste myself on you. Never thought to do such a thing with anyone else."
"What's it like?" she asked, genuinely curious.
"It's better when I'm going down on you," he said. "Then I taste you, too. Us together." His eyes darkened. "That's a taste I could drink down every day." As he spoke, he unzipped her pants, slid his hand in, and reached down until his middle finger found her clit. "You must really love watching me cum," he said as he pushed in further. "You're halfway there already." He drew away from her and stood with a satisfied expression. "Since you did such a good job . . ." he took a deep breath and chewed the corner of his lower lip.
Emma tried not to betray impatience as she waited for him to continue his thought.
"I'll allow you a reward."
Her eyes lit up.
"And you may choose it."
I must have been spectacular! She congratulated herself, then focused on deciding what to ask for.
"Stand up and strip while you think."
While she followed the command, he fetched the kitchen timer from next to the stove. When she was fully undressed he got down on his knees in front of her, and cranked the timer to five minutes. "You have five minutes to make a decision. In the meantime," he tapped his hook against her leg. She spread out a little, as if to let a small-ish dog run between her legs, "I'll be busy down here. You are to remain standing, you may not hold onto either wall for support. I'm sure you know what happens of you fall to the floor."
"I lose my choice," Emma panted.
"I'll give you a bit of back support with my hook arm, but that's it. Understand?"
She nodded.
He released the timer, and the soft sound of its tickticktick filled the hall.
He smiled and sunk two fingers into her core, slowly moving them in and out as he snaked his hook arm around her thigh, slid it over her ass up to her lower back, and held her in place. When he knew he had her steadied enough, he began teasing her clit with his tongue.
Emma arched into the contact with a long moan. She'd been with a few men who knew their way around down there, but damn. Her breath hitched each time his tongue delivered a flick. Meanwhile his fingers scissored and curled inside her. Actually, his talents in this area started off at wow. It was their mutual desire to constantly challenge themselves that took him from wow to damn. It dawned on her as she stood there, legs shaking as she tried to keep her knees from giving way, that he'd officially left damn in the dust at some point, and moved on to something beyond words. She hoped her cock sucking skills had followed a similar trajectory.
He withdrew his fingers and set them to work on her clit while he pushed one thigh up on his shoulder and tilted her back just a tad to give himself more territory. He was careful to keep his hook arm firm around her.
Emma scraped her fingers through his hair starting at the nape of his neck, lost in blind pleasure. He ran his tongue over every inch of her center while fingers worked diligently at her clit. She leaned back further, grasping at him, and tried to correctly balance her weight against the one arm. Quite a struggle when one's self control is hanging on by a thread.
Hook went on with voracious enthusiasm.
Emma was just on the precipice of orgasm when a horrible realization hit her.
I haven't chosen what I want!
She made a decision and came just as the timer buzzed. Hook let go of her instantly, and she tumbled to the floor. "That was perfect," she praised in a throaty rasp.
He wiped the lower half of his face on his sleeve. "Must've been," he said with a salacious chuckle. "You're wet enough to drown a man, Swan. I do hope you managed to make a decision."
"The cuffs and the tree."
There was a particular tree in the forest they'd found completely by accident, far away from any path. They sometimes liked to do that. Just wander through wild, untrodden forest. The tree trunk was the perfect width for Emma to get her arms around close enough for handcuffs to close the remaining distance. And it was a maple tree, so the bark wasn't rough. They weren't actually playing a game at the time, and had an obligation to be somewhere, so they'd made a mental note to work it into play at some point. The two times they'd played since then it was either raining, or howling wind, so that particular adventure wasn't an option.
Hook's eyes lit up. "Excellent choice, I'd almost forgotten that damn tree! Stay here. I'll select what you're to wear."
Emma pushed herself into sitting position and sat cross legged, waiting patiently.
She didn't have to wait long. Hook returned with a selection that looked nothing like the kind of thing Emma wore anymore. Stuff that had moved from place to place with her only because she kept forgetting to donate them someplace. Back when she was broke, any clothes she could afford would do. In this case, a summery just-below-the-knee white skirt adorned with a pattern of little yellow flowers, a pastel purple button down shirt with quarter length sleeves, strapless black bra, and no panties.
Emma smiled. "Odd selection," she noted as she pulled the skirt over her hips.
Hook leaned against the wall with a likewise amiable expression and crossed his arms. "That's rather the point, love. I mean to fuck you ten kinds of senseless, and the thought of doing it while you're dressed for bloody church amuses me. I was going to include a scarf of some kind to tie over your mouth in case you got too loud, but then you'd have no way to give me the Safeword."
Emma clasped the bra and quickly pulled on and buttoned the shirt. "Bet you a thousand dollars I won't need it anyhow."
He smirked. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"
Hook was still getting the feel of driving, so Emma took the wheel. He swept her hair back and stroked his hook along the side of her neck, gazing at her as though they were sitting in a classy, violins-and-candelight restaurant. The comparison between appearance and reality got him half hard, but he kept it under control. They had a hike ahead of them, and trekking while hard was one hell of a chore. He'd spent a good bit of their time in Neverland feeling horribly awkward, and struggling to talk himself down.
Before they got out of the car Hook ordered her to pleasure herself until he counted to sixty. He alternated between counting fast and counting slow. When he reached sixty, she withdrew without hesitation or pouting (though on the inside she was dying to continue). She started to raise her fingers to her mouth to lick them clean as she'd done earlier with the cum, but Hook reached out and grabbed her wrist, squeezing tightly.
"NO!"
She side-eyed him, curious.
"Wipe them on your lovely skirt."
Once they were far enough from the road not to be visible, Hook cuffed her hands in front of her and used them to drag her along. He didn't walk too fast, and he did slow down for larger impediments and slippery places (decaying leaves may as well be oil slicks sometimes), but he made sure the walk was work.
Once their tree was in view, he allowed himself to get fully hard. "There it is, my princess," he purred.
She tried to walk past him toward it, but he grabbed her arms from behind and held her flush against him. "Oh no," he whispered directly in her ear. "One step at a time." They continued forward. "You can unbutton your shirt if you care to."
Of course she did.
Thank God I've got such discipline, he thought as they wandered forward. The sight of Emma's naked flesh and black bra was torture. He wanted nothing more than to take the remaining distance at a dead run. But he couldn't let his Lady down in the grand scheme. Always challenge, he reminded himself every painful step of the way. Always the challenge.
"Be ready when we get there, Swan," he rasped, grabbing her by the hip and grinding his hardness against her. "Because I mean to take you without pause."
He felt her whole body quake against his as he walked them toward her impending fuck.
When they did reach the tree, he hurled her against and cuffed her to it in what seemed like less than a second. Then he walked back 'round, unzipping as he went, yanked her legs up over his hips, and thrust forward with all the force he could muster. He pushed her skirt out of the way as he went, and true to his word, showed no mercy.
Loathe to leave the whole job to his cock, he grabbed the bra, tore it down to her midsection with a guttural hiss, and went about marking the territory of her perfect, pale breasts. More visible evidence of his ownership. She always wore the marks he gave her proudly, like trophies-undisplayed trophies, but still. She saw each one as proof of his wild desire to be her greatest fantasy.
His tireless efforts elicited a thousand cries and bursts of foul language (mostly pertaining to his cock, and how well he wielded it). Her shouted sounds coupled with the intoxicating sensation of her walls clutching him tight as they rippled with a ceaseless tide of orgasm drove him to near-madness. His cock begged for release, but he made himself a promise as he thrust with ruthless commitment.
I will not cum until I'm in utter agony!
He forced himself not to give in several times before it finally became too much. He drove his hook into the tree trunk, dug his nails into the underside of her thigh, and lost his mind inside her, cumming with enough force to shame a thunderstorm. He collapsed to the ground immediately afterward while Emma sagged forward, her cuffs the only thing keeping her upright. Both were drenched in sweat, and panting as though they'd raced one another across the continent.
A few minutes later, Emma giggled.
"What's on your mind?" Hook asked as he hoisted himself to his feet.
She gave him a smug smile. "I didn't say lemon."
"Mmmm." Hook nuzzled her nose and peppered her face with sweet little kisses in the manner of dewy, saccharine romance. "Oh, love," he whispered tenderly, "we'll be at it again in a bit."
"WHAT?" Emma's eyes bulged. "How can you possibly-"
"I'll need an hour or so to recover obviously, but we are going again." he paused, and dropped his voice. "Only next time, I'm cuffing you to that tree." He pointed his hook toward a tree with a very slender trunk. "And you'll be on all fours."
Emma swallowed. "Do I get un cuffed in the meantime?"
"Oh, why not," Hook sighed with a shrug.
His let her free, and soothed her engorged core with the occasional light licking.
An hour later she was indeed cuffed to the base of the other tree, situated to the side of the trunk and propped on her elbows.
Wow, he is really going for it today! When he first informed her there would be more, she half assumed he'd change his mind. You should know better, Emma, the man lives to outdo himself.
He leaned over her body as he pushed the skirt up over her ass and said quietly, "we're going to have lunch at Granny's when we're through here, by the way. You will sit calmly in that adorable diner." He sat back and ran his hook from the crook of her knee over the rise of her ass while three fingers explored inside her. "You will eat what you order." He positioned himself, cock hovering at her entrance. "And you will think about every filthy thing we've done today."
Emma's breath grew shaky, as did her body. "You're so good to me," she whispered.
Hook swelled with pride as he slid the head of his cock into her. "Anything for you my beautiful, un-breakable toy." He paused just long enough to make her squirm before he grabbed her hips and surrounded himself in her welcoming heat.
"Aaaaahhhhhh," Emma let out a long, high pitched, warbling moan and clawed at the ground beneath her. "How are-ah! How are y-you real?!" Her head dropped onto her forearm, and with every incredible thrust, her fuck-thrashed hair picked up more and more forest debris. "How! Are! Y-oh, God! Howareyoureal?"
Hook only growled in response. It was all he could manage. Honestly, he didn't know where it came from. He'd never been this man. Always thought of himself as a scoundrel, of course. A man with a certain edge, yes. But when he first decided to perform as Emma's fantasy owner he never imagined himself taking it so far. It shocked him that he was even capable (not just of doing it, but of enjoying the hell out of it). It was as though Emma's desire had unlocked something primal in him. Something that would be downright ugly, even evil, were it not their mutual playground.
As with their first go, he did not allow himself to cum until he felt like breaking every bone in his body would be the lesser agony.
"Emma! Emma! Emma!" He grunt/whine/chanted as he surged into her those final few times, determined not to relent until there was no choice.
She felt him swell and burst inside her with the kind of impact that levels cities, and sends bridges crumbling to the sea. When it was completely over he fell down by her side, sated and destroyed, and used the last of his strength to un-cuff her. They laid there in spoon formation for quite a while before he rose to his feet. Emma pulled herself up with his assistance, and they gazed at one another for a long, sweet moment.
As he gazed, Hook pulled up Emma's skirt to run a gentle hand over his soaked, hard earned plunder. He kissed her just as gently, his tongue running over hers. She responded in kind. When they separated, he helped her smooth down her hair and pick out debris.
"Do you want me in the cuffs for the walk back to the car?"
"No," he said as they began to mosey, neither in a state to walk fast. "I did fuck you ten kinds of senseless and you took every second without the Safeword. I'll give you a break." He helped her over a large fallen log.
It took them a while to reach the car, and Emma hissed when she sat down, her previously whipped back angered by the tree trunk. She was grateful her clothes were light and loose. She wondered of that had been part of Hook's wardrobe selection criteria.
It only took fifteen minutes to reach Granny's.
Emma and Hook sat in their booth and smiled knowingly at one another. It did feel incredibly erotic to be sitting in an adorable diner looking wholesome as hell while her sex throbbed between her legs, so recently fucked to the breaking point.
Clever man, she thought. Our bodies have tapped out, but the game keeps going.
Ruby strolled over and asked if they wanted anything to drink besides water.
"I'll have an iced tea," Emma chirped happily.
Hook stuck with water.
The iced tea arrived with a wedge of lemon on the side. They both struggled not to laugh.
"Hey, sweetie pie," she said in a facetious tone.
He replied in kind. "Yes, my precious one?"
She picked up the lemon wedge and waved it in his general direction. "Do you want this? I don't need it at all."