Pairing: Emma/August
Rating: M (explicit sex, lots of angst, some violence, extremely crude/offensive language. You have been warned)
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Once Upon a Time.
A/N: I don't remember exactly how this idea was conceived, but I wanted to write something like super angsty/ragey. It made me really uncomfortable to write so I'm almost certain it will be uncomfortable for you to read. So, sorry in advance, but I hope you enjoy it at least a little.
And please heed my warning: if you don't think you can handle it, don't read it. Seriously.
Also thanks, as always, to my wife for putting up with me during all of this and helping me out :D
At first, he thought about leaving. It would be easier that way. A clean break. Just rip the bandage off. But how could he, really? How could he leave his family behind after everything? It wasn't long before that they'd been reunited and now…
Maybe it would have been better if he hadn't come back at all. He'd served no real purpose after sending that damn postcard, and things hadn't exactly turned out in his favor.
Except that she loved him. It came out of her mouth the moment she came into view, her arms wrapped so tight around his neck he thought she might crack a vertebrae. And he loved her, too. Still did, if he was being honest, even though she was gone, lost to that miscreant.
But he couldn't really blame the guy for wanting to have a relationship with his son, could he? Though he could absolutely blame him for everything else…
He hopped up the narrow steps of the all-too-familiar diner, needing to regain some sense of normalcy and get out the house. As much as he loved his father, if he had to look up over the paper standing up from his typewriter to find the old man gazing pitifully at him, he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't end up lobbing a blunt object at him.
As soon as he stepped foot inside the crowded diner, the chatter in the room seemed to rapidly decline into a chorus of tenuous whispers. He clenched a fist and strode toward an open seat at the counter, burying his head in a menu, though Ruby already knew his order. After a moment, the ambient noise picked up and for a moment, things felt relatively normal.
His meal came and went, seeming to satisfy him at least temporarily. The door opened and shut with a loud clatter, ushering in a group of heavily intoxicated men who took a table behind him and ordered a large quantity of alcohol to go with their cheeseburgers.
"Pretty soon she'll have slept her way through the entire town." The laughter that followed made the hair on the back of August's neck stand on end. "And then some."
He tried to ignore the drunken conversation behind him, though he was clearly meant to hear it.
"Yeah well, after she's done with that Neal fellow, I'd like to take a go at her next." He recognized the melodic candor of Captain Hook's voice at once. He'd been an unwelcome addition to town, but other than avoiding him at any cost, there was no real way to be rid of him.
"Are you sure you really want to get in on that?" August suspected the second man to be the strange no-longer shut-in who went by Jefferson. "I mean, she is a hot little number and probably knows what she's doing between the sheets but…"
"Let's just say I've never been one to turn down a shag."
August clenched his eyes shut and wondered why, if these two assholes were so damn horny, they didn't just go fuck each other already. He knew he was about to lose his cool, and took a deep breath, waiting anxiously for his check to arrive so he could leave.
"Well, I can't say I didn't think about it when I had her drugged and gagged."
"I'd like to lash her to my mast and give her a good gagging myself…"
August hardly noticed how firmly he held his glass of water until it shattered in his hand. The entire diner fell quiet as he rose from his seat and turned to go after the clearly inebriated men at the table behind him. A swell of anger rushed through him and all of his senses went blank until he felt Ruby on his arm, pulling him back violently before he could take his first swing. He was so blinded by his fury that he barely heard her shouting at the men to leave and whisper in his ear to calm down. It didn't matter anyway. He pushed her away more roughly than perhaps was necessary, and tried to keep his bearings while his head swam with the desire to kill anyone who spoke poorly of Emma. He may have lost her but his feelings for her would never change.
The realization of what had happened brought him back into his own head. He mumbled a strained apology to Ruby, then swiped a bottle of the most expensive liquor he could see from behind the counter after she hurried away to find a dustpan.
The maniacal little laugh echoed in his mind as he stormed off toward the inn lobby where Granny stood in shock with her knitting clenched between her hands.
"I need a room," he declared as he brushed past her. Formalities no longer applied between them, he'd lived with Granny and Ruby long enough before the curse broke that they treated him like family. But that didn't exactly excuse the way he spoke to her now.
Granny stared after him, bewildered, before pulling herself together. "What do you need a room for, boy?"
"Please, just for tonight."
She studied his disheveled appearance before flicking her eyes down to his one hand bloodied from the broken glass while the other held firmly onto the bottle. She looked up nervously, trying to find the right way to deter him. "Dammit, August, you're dripping all over my hardwood floors. Let me clean that up for you."
"No," he slapped her hands away as she attempted to sop up some of the blood with a rag. "Just give me my room key. I'll pay you tomorrow. You know I'm good for it."
Granny froze for a moment before turning slowly and reaching back to grab the #2 key from its peg. He should feel bad for treating her so poorly, especially after everything she'd done for him while he was her tenant, but the unending rage that boiled beneath his skin was enough to keep him from caring. She leaned forward to offer him the key and he muttered a 'thanks' before snatching it away and headed for the stairwell.
He staggered up to his old room, failing to notice the bloody trail he left along the handrail and wallpaper. There was only one thing on his mind and he was determined to erase it from existence. The place was exactly the same as when he'd left the inn for his father's house, only the quilt at the end of the bed had been changed out. It was comforting, if at least for some fleeing moment before he uncapped the bottle and took his first swig.
Taking a seat at his old desk, August wished he had his typewriter in front of him for some kind of distraction. Instead he focused on emptying half a bottle of MacCutcheon's into his stomach, and watched blood clot in the large gash on his palm. If he could just drink enough, if he could just forget everything, he'd be happy. Well, not happy per se, but if the misery were to be numbed enough, it would be the closest he'd been to happy in a long time.
"August?" He whirled his head up to find Emma standing over him, sending his brain spinning in place. When had she arrived? And how hadn't he noticed her entrance? And how long exactly had he been sitting there?
Blinking, he scoffed and reached to take another swig from the bottle. Emma was faster than him, though, and snatched it out of his hand before backing away toward the closed door. "You've had enough."
He scowled up at her and stood.
"Since when did you start having a say in anything I do?" The years spent drunken in dive bars around the world afforded him enough control over his cognitive faculties not to let his speech slur or to trip over his own feet, but he knew that the smell on his breath alone had informed Emma of just how much he'd put away. "Why did you come here?"
Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly. And if that were any indicator, her pulse would be close behind.
He wanted to press his lips to her throat to find out.
"Granny and Ruby both called me. They're worried about you. So am I. I miss you, August."
He scoffed again and paced slowly toward her, trying not to let the swell of dizziness throw him off. "Oh, well isn't that convenient?"
"It's not convenient. Will you please just talk to me?" Her voice shook and she tensed at his approach, the bottle now clutched tight enough in her hands to turn her knuckles white. She looked guilty and scared and a hundred other things August was too far-gone to identify. "Please… I came here because I love you—"
The thin thread barely holding him together snapped. "No, you don't. If you loved me, you wouldn't be fucking Neal," he spat the words like poison and Emma's mouth clamped shut. He grinned bitterly as she slipped away from the door. He followed, stalking her around the room like prey and taking ill-devised swipes at the bottle.
"He's Henry's father, I just wanted to try and make things work for his sake."
"Oh, you want to talk about Henry, now?" His voice cracked on the kid's name and he extended his index finger shakily. "I've been more of a father to that kid than anyone else in this damn town and you know it."
Emma used the back of her hand to wipe away the tears streaking down her cheeks. Fuck, when did she start crying? And why? This isn't how he wanted this night to go. All he'd wanted was to drink himself into oblivion and maybe break a couple things along the way. Instead he was backing his ex into a corner with so much ire seething under his skin he could barely contain it.
"But you're the one who sent Neal that postcard… you told me where to find him!"
"Yeah but, dammit Emma, I didn't tell you start sleeping with him!"
"August, that is not fair!" She continued to evade him, but the room wasn't all that large and she was running out of places to go.
"You know what's not fair? Being dumped for some degenerate that you've never been able to say 'no' to." Memories flooded forward in his mind; finding out 11 years ago that the impressionable 17-year-old child he had sworn to protect was engaged in an illicit sexual relationship with a man who was old enough to know better made him sick. Aside from needing to steer Emma toward her destiny, he'd also needed to get her away from that predator. And now he was back.
"August, please, you don't understand—"
"Oh, I understand, Emma, I understand perfectly well."
"But Neal—"
"And you know what everyone's saying about you, don't you?" He continued as if she hadn't even spoken, "That you're some kind of whore. Is that what you want to be known as, Emma?"
Her eyes stared widely up at him, tears spilling down her rosy cheeks.
"Is that why you came here, Emma? Do you want to be my whore?" He demanded nearly inaudibly and backed her against the wall. His fingers traced under the hem of her sweater and she shivered against his touch. Grinning again, August snatched the bottle out of her hands, then took a long swig and slammed it on the nightstand, causing Emma to flinch.
She looked away and shifted uncomfortably; clearly his use of language and the smell of alcohol on his breath were upsetting her, but he wasn't exactly in the business of caring at the moment. Maybe later when the burn of whisky had left his throat, when his head was clear, when he had the capacity to feel anything other than anger and hurt, he'd feel bad. But not now.
Pressing flush against her body, he twined a hand through her hair. Her eyes found his again pleadingly.
She was scared. Good. She needed to see him like this, in all types of weather. Needed to see if she really wanted to be with him, for better or—
No, that's a different thought for a different day. A different life.
"Is this really what you want?" He breathed icily into her face.
She swallowed and nodded slightly, the sinews of her neck defined against her tense muscles. Her hands moved shakily to his belt buckle, fumbled nervously for a moment with the familiar metal clasp.
And that was all needed. He kissed her hard and gripped her by the elbows, pulling her toward him while pressing her back into the wall with his body. The mélange of hatred and desire that coursed through him would have given him pause were he sober, but with his senses dulled, he failed to see the need to stop, to think.
He broke away suddenly, pulling her roughly along with him and tossed her to the bed like a rag doll. She gasped and stared up at him as she bounced lightly on the old creaky mattress, her eyes filled with something akin to outrage and confusion. Whatever protests she had were kept sealed between her lips as she watched him remove his shirt and begin to finish what she'd started on his buckle and fly. She moved slowly, following his lead, and after slipping out of most of the confines of her clothes without a word, she shuddered visibly. August was unsure if the reaction was from the cold air in the room or the way he towered over her.
When she was down to just her bra and panties he shoved her back and crawled on top of her, settling between her parted thighs. He ground his hips slowly against hers, wanting her to feel him intimately, to give her a chance to back down. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she croaked out, and somehow this affirmation sounded even less convincing than her simple nod. He refused to allow his rage to slacken, though his mind was teetering on the precipice of wondering if he was taking this too far. Slipping a hand behind her back, he pinched the clasp of her bra open and leaned up to slide the straps down her arms. She attempted to show some affection by threading her hands in his hair, but he snapped up her wrists, pinioning them to the sides of her head. He moved down, planting hot kisses on her throat that earned him a small moan as she writhed underneath him.
It was a battle of sheer wills now: how far he was going to take it, and how far she would let him go. It was illicit and crude, but the gauntlet was thrown. The raw desire to lose himself within her and the disgust at knowing another man was finding his home there all but equaled. He hated himself for it, for not being able to let go and allow her explore the past life she was forced to leave behind, by him, he reminded himself shamefully.
Bringing his attention back to her skin, he looked down to find her nipples pert and pink and inviting. He wanted nothing more than to lap lazily at the sensitive flesh, to feel her hands in his hair, pulling him against her breast. Instead he scraped his teeth angrily along her skin, drawing red paths in their wake. The grip on her wrists loosened and her hands moved back to his hair, tugging gently upwards to encourage him back to her lips as her hips ground against his. The sudden jolt in his cock seemed to sober him slightly and he complied, too willingly, shifting his weight to his forearms so he could hover over her.
With a sad smile, she used the space between them to ghost her fingers down his torso and flutter around his growing erection. She wasn't relaxed, not by a long shot, though her mechanical movements were still mildly reminiscent of the previous wild abandon they shared.
How had it come to this? There was no one to blame but himself, he thought for a moment, and then remembered that Emma was just as much a part of this as he was. How many times had he begged her to let him move in? It seemed silly to be so involved with her and Henry and still live with his father. But he also tried to understand her hesitance. Things had changed so much so quickly and she was still getting used to it all. So he let her set the pace of their relationship and keep it quiet for as long as they could without the townspeople beginning to talk.
Then Neal came to town. And August wasn't entirely surprised. After Emma had gone to see him in New York, told him about their son, how extraordinary and impossible the entire situation was, it was only a matter of time. What he hadn't anticipated, though, was when Emma told him she needed some time to see where things went with Neal, that Henry had been asking for her to at least try. And it wasn't the kid's fault; it was never the kid's fault. How could he know what Emma refused to tell him?
All he needed was some time to cool off, to let them try and fail, but then the news filtered in that they'd begun sleeping together, and the rumors that followed…
The still-fresh memory caused him to rip her panties off roughly.
"August!" She gasped as his fingers entered her to feel the hot wetness that awaited him. It sickened him, if only for a moment, to know another man had been there, felt the same silky heat, and not long before. Maybe they were right; maybe she was just a whore. "Please…"
His stomach churned violently. He didn't need her encouragement, didn't want it. But he also didn't want to bother with foreplay. So he teased her a moment longer before removing his fingers, moist with her fluids, and replaced them with his now painfully swollen cock. He slid into her with ease and gripped the side of her face to force her to look at him. Part of him wished to take it slow with her, wished to make love to her like it meant something. But now wasn't the time for tenderness so he thrust hard and fast, eliciting a sharp cry from her lungs.
If she told him to stop, he would, but instead her fingernails dug into his shoulders, her eyes lolled back into her head and the once fearful noises that escaped her lips evolved into mewls of pleasure.
"You like that, huh? You like when I fuck you like the little slut that you are?" The power behind his thrusts would leave her smarting and unable to walk normally at least for a day, but he didn't care. He wanted her to feel him; to remember him when she left.
A small sob escaped her throat when she tried to speak, so instead she settled for another nod. Still unsatisfied, he pulled out and flipped her forcefully onto her stomach. He knelt behind her and pulled her to her knees to begin fucking her deeper, knowing full well the effect the angle would have. He wanted her to come, but he also didn't want to help her along; something like teasing her clit until she screamed his name would show too much care.
If he could just turn everything off, just forget what brought them here, he might actually allow himself to enjoy this; that all-too-familiar sensation of clenching muscles around his cock alerting him to the fact that she would come soon, the way she cried out a string of expletives and pushed her hips back into his as she came hard around him. But this wasn't the time for enjoyment.
She made a half- earnest attempt at pushing herself up to her hands but quickly gave up; instead biting down on the pillow to muffle her screams and grasping at the bed linens for purchase. He fought off the threat of his own release and took a deep breath as her trembling body fell slack against the bed.
God, he loved the way she looked after an orgasm… beads of sweat pooling into the divots of her body, hair a mess, skin pink and flushed all over, the smell of her arousal filling the air…
The only sound in the room was their collective heavy breathing and the light rustle of sheets as Emma turned slowly to face him, her chest heaving and her eyes wide. "August…"
"Tell me why."
"What?" She panted.
"Tell me why you left me for that asshole. After everything."
"Because… you…" The look on her face indicated regret in her choice of words already and her mind scrambled to make a correction. "He came home…" Another bad choice. "He saw that I was upset after I told you I needed space… and he was comforting me and then… all those feelings came rushing back…"
He couldn't hear another word. So he shut her up by jerking her head aggressively toward his groin. Her lips parted immediately to take him in, still slick with her own fluids. He groaned at the heat from her mouth and the movement of her tongue lapping at the underside of his dick. She brought a hand up to stroke him as her eyes closed, seeming to lose herself in her efforts.
When he drew close, he pushed her back and straddled her hips on his knees, hovering above her. It didn't take long for him to come as he pumped himself, spurting thick white strings of fluid across her chest and stomach.
"There," he muttered as he watched the last few drops spill onto her skin and breathed heavily. "Is that how you want to be treated?"
When his eyes rose to meet hers, he found them overflowing with tears. "No," she answered meekly. "I'm sorry, August, I'm so…"
His heart wrenched and he descended on her, pulling her body tight and kissed her desperately. He loved her too much to let his anger stay in control, especially seeing her like this.
"God, Emma, why? Why, why?" He demanded and buried his face in the crook of her neck, his fingers digging hard into the bare flesh of her hips.
He wanted their skin to break and their bodies to fuse in some kind of reverse mitosis. He wanted to feel her blood rushing through his veins, to hear her very thoughts and feel everything she felt in excruciating vibrancy.
"I wish I could give you a reason that was fair, that made sense, but…" her strained voice broke as her hands moved to cradle the back of his head, tangling her fingers in the tufts of his hair. She was silent for a time before she cleared her throat softly and tried to speak again. "He's gone now."
August tensed, the grip on her narrow waist pulling her in closer, if it were at all possible. His head craned upwards to look at her, her face still flushed and damp with tears. She looked down to meet his eyes. "What?"
"Neal…" She reiterated though it was hardly necessary, "is gone. He kept trying to get me to run away with him, to leave Henry with Regina and go back to our old life. He couldn't accept that I moved on from that… from him."
"And he left." He needed to say it out loud in order to fully grasp the concept.
Emma gave the impression of a small nod and smiled sadly. "I told him to leave this morning. He was poisonous to Henry and I. He couldn't understand that my home is here now, and my family. You."
A lump formed in his throat. Emma had come here with the intention of tell him everything but August… he was too drunk on alcohol and his own resentment to hear any of it. And he'd been so aggressive, so needlessly cruel to her. But Emma was always stronger than him and he knew she would never have allowed him to treat her that way if she didn't think, even a small part of her, that she deserved it. But she didn't. She didn't deserve any of it. And August was back to hating himself, if only for that brief, flickering moment. Releasing his grip on her at last, he moved up to prop himself on a forearm and looked down at her. "Emma…" The remorse is his voice was clear but she pressed a finger to his lip, effectively silencing him.
"No. You don't have to apologize, August. Not for this. Not for anything." Her hand slid to cup his cheek and she leaned in to kiss him lightly before continuing, "Ruby told me about what happened in the diner. About Hook and Jefferson. About you trying to defend me. Especially when you had no real reason to."
"Would you really expect me to behave any differently?"
"I suppose not…" she murmured with a grin and pressed her mouth to his again. He allowed her a moment to tease his lips with her tongue, but there was something else nagging at the back of his mind that he couldn't let go of.
"Wait." He pulled away, placing a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from following. She frowned and let her head fall against the pillow, apparently sensing his thoughts. "Things aren't just suddenly okay. I need to know what happens now."
The tension was palpable. He didn't want to push her too far, but he'd already had enough of the secret relationship thing before she told him she needed space. And he wasn't exactly keen on picking up where they left off.
Emma sucked in a breath; she clearly didn't want to discuss this. Not now. But considering everything, she definitely still owed him this. "What do you want to happen?" She asked, unwilling to hide her dejection.
He was surprised by the question. "Well for one," he began tentatively. The truth was he hadn't really thought about it; he only ever wanted what Emma wanted. "I want us to tell Henry and your parents about our relationship. I want to be public. I want everyone to know we belong to each other and no one else. I want you to let me move in with you." Emma opened her mouth to protest at this point, but August continued speaking. "And I want for us to be deliriously happy and to never have the need for angry drunken sex ever again."
Emma cocked one eyebrow and resumed her position. "Is that all?" She asked softly, a smile threatening to escape the corners of her mouth.
Thinking for a moment, he blinked and nodded slightly. "That's enough for now, don't you think?"
"Just one thing." She leaned closer, just so their lips were grazing lightly. Intrigued, August remained still, despite his skin burning for more contact. "We will absolutely have angry drunken sex again because that was incredible. I have never come so hard in my life."
Before August could utter another word, Emma had pushed him onto his back and swung a leg across his hips. A different kind of heat rushed through him, and the blood coursing through his veins quickly pooled where it was needed. He was surprised by how soon he'd been able to reestablish his erection, especially considering how much he'd had to drink. Soon his cock was rubbing against Emma's slick cunt as she centered herself over his body, her knees clenched hard against his hips.
His hands found her breasts and he used his fluid from their previous transgression to massage her nipples between his fingertips, well aware that there was now a thin layer also spread across his own chest and stomach. He vowed to get them both into the shower after this.
Emma broke away from his mouth for a moment to gasp his name and throw her head back, grinding her hips against his and deliberately sending his cock sliding vigorously against her pubic bone. He groaned and palmed her breasts hard before scraping his hands down her ribcage, but made no attempt to thrust up into her, though he desperately ached for it.
Looking back down, Emma smiled, her golden hair spilling around her shoulders in an absolutely beautiful mess. She leaned down to kiss him briefly, catching his bottom lip between her teeth before pulling away again. She shifted; resting all of her weight on the hand planted next to his head, and moved her free hand down between them, wrapping her fingers around his dick to hold him steady. Her eyes stayed glued his as she sank down onto him and began to rock forward, her face hovering just above his. Even thought he'd basically just torn her apart, she was so hot and tight around his cock that every thought previous to this moment immediately left his mind.
Every so often, she'd dip her head on the down stroke to kiss him, though his mouth could barely react properly. Eventually he came back to his senses and his thumb found her clit, and worked light circles at the swollen bundle of nerves as he grew closer to another orgasm.
Emma pinched her lips together, letting out a series of small noises from her throat. "August…" she breathed at last. "Come with me. I'm so close…"
The request caused him to grunt in assent. His free hand gripped the soft flesh of her ass, halting her movements. He moved his hips up into hers, setting the pace to prepare himself. Emma leaned forward onto his chest, her teeth making contact with his shoulder as she began to convulse and moan.
"Emma…" he groaned as a wave of pleasure broke over him, jerking his hips roughly before slowing to ride it out. Craning her neck upwards she smiled and kissed him languidly, then settled back on his chest, tracing circles with her fingertips on his skin. He stroked the knots out of her hair absent-mindedly and closed his eyes, content to fall asleep to the sounds of their breathing.
There would be no questions about their relationship now, no more wondering where he stood, and perhaps most importantly, no one between them. Unless it was Henry, of course, in which case August was certain he could handle that.