It's not exactly a surprise when Emma corners him the second he walks into their apartment and motions at the chair set in the middle of the room, ropes clutched tight in her hand. They'd talked about it before, tying each other up; in fact, just last night, after some really great sex, she'd brought it up, mentioned maybe she'd like to see him at a disadvantage for once.
And of course, he'd told her he wouldn't mind being at a disadvantage with her any time. That might have led to more great sex, but he wasn't going to brag or anything.
He, however, had not expected this, exactly. It had been simple to shrug out of his jacket and vest, to follow her over to the chair, to sit in it and hold still while she wrapped the rope around his wrists, snugly restricting any movement.
It had, admittedly, been a bit of a turn on.
But now she's standing in front of him, finger pressed against her teeth as she eyes him appreciatively. Now that he can focus on just her, he takes in what she's wearing; bright red heels that do amazing things for her legs, a dark coat wrapped around her hiding whatever else she may have on underneath. Her hair is curled and falls over her shoulders like a golden waterfall, and he's a pirate, for god's sake, he's supposed to appreciate golden things, okay. He wants to tangle his fingers in her hair, to mess up the curls and tug and tousle and breathe in the distinct smell that clings to her.
Her lips are cherry-red, the same shade as her shoes, and if he didn't already suspect something, that would have given it away.
He's tied up and completely at her mercy and he really can't wait for the fun to start.
She drops her hand from her lips to the sash around her waist, fingers quickly untying it. It makes his heart speed up in his chest, which is a little absurd, but she's Emma Swan, and he's never going to stop feeling like this around her. No matter how many times he sees her naked, no matter how many times he has her, it will never be enough.
And then she's pulling the jacket off her shoulders and his mouth is suddenly a lot drier than it was a minute ago.
She looks absolutely sinful, her breasts nearly spilling out of a corset that matches her lips and hugs her curves perfectly. There's a scrap of lace between her legs, and he's not entirely sure in what world it is enough to be considered underwear, but it leaves almost nothing to the imagination, something he finds himself quite appreciative of.
He tries to swallow and licks his lips, eyes taking in every detail of her ensemble, from the way her legs seem to go on for an eternity, to the black edging on her leather corset, to the way her lips have quirked up teasingly.
"You okay there, pirate?" she asks, her voice soft and carefully pitched to elicit a very specific response from him. It works, and he has to hold down a groan as she starts moving towards him, hips swaying with every step she takes in those goddamn shoes.
"I'm fine," he manages to croak out, but the blood rushing in his ears and the heat spreading through his groin do a good job of making him sound like an absolute fool.
She hums, eyes twinkling as she gets closer to him. He can't help it, his pants have suddenly gotten very uncomfortable, and he shifts and spreads his legs, trying to find a better position. Her eyes zero in on his crotch, the obvious bulge starting to take shape there.
"I think you're lying," she whispers, coming to a stop in front of him. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest when she steps between his legs and lowers herself down on his thighs. Of course she doesn't touch him where he wants, instead dragging her fingers across his shoulders and upper arms. "Do you know what happens to liars, Captain?" She tilts her head forward, breath coming in hot bursts against his neck. "They get punished."
Her words go straight to his groin and he really can't control the groan that escapes his lips. Not when she's a warm presence all around him, her chest just inches from his, her lips so close to his skin.
That's when she pulls away, rising up off of him in one fluid motion.
"Emma," he breathes, not even caring if he sounds desperate and turned on, because gods damn him, he is desperate and turned on for her and she knows it already, so why pretend?
But she presses a finger to his lips and slides around the side of him, her other hand trailing across his shoulder as she circles him. Her fingernails scratch at the back of his neck and he can't help the noise he makes, something low and desperate that starts in the back of his throat and trips out of his mouth without his consent.
And Emma, she giggles. Actual giggles, light and knowing and infuriatingly teasing.
"You're a tease, darling, and you'll pay for it," he growls out, proud of how commanding he sounds. She leans forward, her fingers running down his arms as she brings her mouth close to his ear.
"I'd love to see you try," she replies saucily, before pressing a searing kiss against the side of his neck. He doesn't even think, can't, because his brain is shorting out and he's suddenly very desperate for any kind of friction, his hips shifting restlessly against the chair. His skin feels like it's on fire and she doesn't stop, sucking and nipping at the skin, marking him clearly just above his collar, for all the world to see.
When she pulls away he groans, his head trying to follow her, to seek her out. Instead, she finishes circling around him, coming back to stand next to him.
Again, she throws a leg over him, her hair swaying over her shoulders when she moves. This time she scoots forward across his thighs, forearms resting across his shoulders. And again, she doesn't touch him there, where he aches to feel her. Instead, she rises a little, using him as leverage, and she slides herself forward over him, barely brushing over his straining cock. She does it again, her hips swaying in circles this time as she just barely lets herself touch him. He whimpers and lolls his head back, the slight touches nowhere near enough.
"Emma, love, please," he gives in, imagining ripping away the material between her legs, fucking her first with his tongue and then with his cock, making her scream his name, over and over. He wants her, desperately, any way she'll let him have her. He's not really very particular about it, just so long as it ends with both of them in a boneless heap on the floor.
She just hums happily, her hands sliding down from his shoulders and across his chest. When she reaches his waist she starts to undo his belt and slips his shirt out of his pants, just enough so that she can slide her fingers up it enough to grip his waist as she continues to undulate on his lap.
It's not very bloody fair, especially when she tips her head back and her chest presses closer to his, giving him a magnificent view of her cleavage. He leans forward, trying to kiss her, to press his own marks into her skin. But she shimmies away the instant she feels his breath on her skin, her hands leaving him as she rises up off of him.
He growls at her, frustrated with her constant teasing. One day, he's going to tie her up and return the favor. For hours.
His fantasy is interrupted when the fantasy in front of him grabs his knees, pushing them apart abruptly.
"Did I lose your attention for a second there?" Emma's voice is sharp, demanding.
"I was only thinking about returning your simply wonderful favors, love," he bit out, smirk rising on his lips. Oh, two could play at this.
She narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything, leaning forward between his parted thighs until her face is hovering over his chest. He shudders at the feel of her breathing, warm and misty against his skin. Closing the distance, she presses a kiss right there, just over his heart. It jumps under her lips, racing impossibly faster. Using her hands on his knees for balance, she shifts her mouth up, brushing across his collarbone and neck, following the line of exposed skin up to the mark she'd left earlier. When she reaches it, she bites down hard, pulling the skin between her teeth, and he lets out a wordless cry, his hips lifting up off the chair in a mad attempt to find something, anything to relieve the ache.
Gods, if she isn't the most maddening woman he's ever laid eyes on, he doesn't know anything anymore.
His breathing is unsteady, ragged pants all he can managed as she pulls away and stands in front of him. Slowly, she trails her hands up her thighs and across the corset, fingers finding their way to the hooks on the front.
When she pops the first one, he swears his heart stops for just a split second, his breath hitching as she slowly works her way down, more and more creamy skin being exposed between her breasts and across her stomach as she reaches the bottom. In one quick movement, she peels the now-open corset off of her skin and tosses it to the side.
Now, he's certain his heart stops, the beats dropping out completely as he takes in the expanse of skin bared to him. He's seen her a million times before, but this is different. Her breasts are full and round, her nipples hard and straining against the open air of the room. He licks his lips, imagining wrapping his mouth around the dusky flesh, sucking and nipping as she moans under him.
There's so much of her to take in, bare skin so seductive and he wants to touch her all over, drag his fingers across every inch of her. He clenches his fist uselessly, cursing the ropes holding him back.
She's gorgeous and he wants her so bad it's like fire burning through his veins, eating up everything in its path until all he knows is the all-consuming need to have her.
And then she goes and surprises him again, one hand drifting up to massage her breast, thumb rubbing over her pebbled nipple.
"Emma," he whines, desperate and completely shameless. He doesn't care what she thinks, doesn't care if it looks like he'd do anything for her, because he would, and it would always be that way.
"Oh, do I have your attention again?" she asks innocently, her hand dropping from her breast to play with the waistband of her panties.
"Darling, you always have my attention."
His voice sounds almost steady, and he's extremely proud of that fact. He only chokes on the last syllable a little bit.
Emma smiles, a smirk, really, something that looks devastatingly at home on her. She's wearing nothing but red heels, flimsy panties, and his smirk.
It does things to a man to see that.
Slowly, she paces around him in a circle, the click of her shoes on the flood the only sound, aside from his ragged breathing. She does it again, this time stopping behind him again. Her hand come up unexpectedly under his jaw, tilting his head back and to the side. Before he knows what's happening, she's kissing him, hot and open-mouthed. He scrambles to kiss her back, tangling tongues, the feel of her making him moan.
Her hand slips down his shoulder and across his chest, sliding inside his shirt to scrape her nails against his chest. He gasps into her mouth, moans slipping out as she plays him like a fiddle, fingers slipping lower to pinch his nipple. His back arches off the chair at that, disrupting her hand, and she nips at his lip warningly. He growls in return and tugs at his bonds, desperate to just keep her there, to hold her close and never let her go.
But like always, she pulls away slowly, sucking at his lip as she retreats.
He strains his head trying to see her, but he can't catch her out of his peripheral vision no matter which way he looks, and he can't hear her, not over his pounding heart rate and deep desperate breathing, ragged and wrecked.
And then, out of nowhere, bit of lacy fabric flutters over his shoulder to land in his lap. It takes him several seconds to recognize it, and when he does, his heart jolts painfully in his chest and he's one hundred percent sure he cannot get any harder, the confines of his pants painfully tight now.
"Emma, darling," he breathes, all attempts at keeping his voice steady out the window with the realization that she's lurking behind him somewhere, completely naked, "have I told you recently how bloody amazing you are?"
She chuckles, the sound coming from a spot just behind his left ear, and he turns his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. But when he turns, she's not there, not anywhere.
"You've mentioned it once or twice."
Her voice comes from the other side now, and even though he knows she won't be there, he whips his head around anyways.
Suddenly, her fingers are tangling in his hair, scratching at his scalp as she forces his head to the side. She holds him in place and all he can see is her face, the spill of her hair over her shoulders. It's maddening, infuriating, and gods, there are not enough words to describe what she does to him. One hand slips down to his jaw and the other trails down his neck, nails scraping lightly at his skin. She presses a light kiss against his cheek and then tilts his head forward, towards the panties in his lap.
"Those are yours now." Her voice is a breathy whisper in his ear, and he shudders, trying to tilt his head back to nuzzle at her. But she isn't having any of that, pulling away, fingers vanishing from his skin in one quick movement.
"You're going to kill me, love," he grinds out, letting his eyes slide shut. It's too much and not enough; her teasing has left him on edge and too fucking aroused.
"Awww, I would never. I enjoy you too much for that," she says and he snaps his eyes wide open at the closeness of her voice.
Somehow she has managed to straddle him again, in all her bare glory. She smirks and leans forward, brushing her lips across his jaw and up his cheek until finally she slants them over his and presses forward, kissing him with all the passion he feels, passion he knows is mirrored in her, from the way she kisses him so hungrily, the way she presses her body against his, like she can crawl inside him if she just tries hard enough. After the denial of her touches it feels amazing, like setting eyes on water in a desert. Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at the strands wantonly. He moans and whimpers, loving the way she responds, her own small cries spilling out for him to devour.
When finally they break apart, he feels a spark of satisfaction at the realization that she's breathing almost as heavily as he is, that she is slowly rocking against him, her chest sliding against his shirt as though she is as desperate for friction as he is.
Quickly, she slips her hands between them, one finding his belt and the other the panties she'd dropped. She rips the belt out of its loops and tosses it to the side before she smirks up at him, the underwear dangling from her finger.
"Hold these for me, will you?"
And then without warning she stuffs them in his mouth. For a moment he just sits there, stunned. Then it crashes down on him, the smell of her arousal still clinging to the fabric, and if he rolls his tongue against it, he can even taste her wetness. His eyes slide shut as he relishes the assault on his senses. It's completely and absolutely her, and everything he's been craving since she dropped that bloody coat.
He's drawn out of it, though, when her fingers return to his pants, expertly popping the button and pulling the zipper down enough to reach inside. The instant her fingers touch his hard length, he lets out a muffled cry, his eyes rolling back into his head at the way she slides her fingers down him, knowing exactly what drives him insane. His hips stutter and he knows if she keeps touching him, with how hard he is, this could come to a rather abrupt end, and as much as he would enjoy seeing her skin painted with his release, he refuses to come until he's inside her, until he's deep in her perfect heat.
"Emma," he says, but with the underwear in his mouth it comes out muffled and unintelligible. She seems to get the message though, because she finishes pulling him out and tugs at his pants just enough to expose him, in too much of a hurry to properly take any of his clothes off.
He'll be the first to admit that the thought of his Swan fucking herself onto him while he sits there, still in his clothes, is incredibly tantalizing.
And, he notes somewhat distantly, it's about to happen, because she's moving forward, lifting her hips and lining him up at her entrance all at once.
In one swift move, she slides home, until she's pressed impossibly close to him, seated fully on his lap. She keens, long and high, and her hand slides under his shirt to grip his hip tightly.
She's warm and tight and so wet, so ready for him, he's already dizzy from everything, from the feel of her, the taste of her, the smell of her flooding his senses, everything overloading as she rocks her hips against his, more desperate noises spilling out of her.
He murmurs her name, though he suspects it comes out as so much gibberish, and she buries her face in his neck, her hips rising and falling against him at a delicious pace, one that makes his head spin and his lungs struggle to suck in enough air.
Emma is bouncing on him now, unashamedly chasing her own release. Her breasts bounce tantalizingly close to his face, but there's nothing he can do, no way to reach out and steady her so he can kiss her, no way to push the fabric out of his mouth(not that he wants to, mind you).
All he can do is take it, revel in the way the blonde on top of him unfurls and comes to ruin, those carefully placed curls falling everywhere, catching in each other when she flips her hair over her shoulder. She whines and cries out when he starts rocking his hips against hers, and her hand shoots out between them to rub at her clit. He's so close, can feel it in his bones, and he already can feel her fluttering around him.
He knows her release will drag him over the edge, so he does his best to slam his hips against hers with every meeting, almost bucking up under her. She cries out his name, over and over again, interspersed with various curses and cries to her deity.
With practically no warning, she comes, splitting apart even as her internal muscles clamp down on him, fluttering and drawing him after her. He comes with a muffled shout, face pressed against her chest as she shudders on him, still riding out the aftershocks of her own orgasm.
They stay like that, pressed together, for a long while. He's not sure how long, but eventually she shifts on top of him, pulling away with a groan. He has to echo the sentiment; he's nowhere near ready to be parted with her. But she slides down next to him, tugging at the ropes that bind his hand to the chair. The instant it's free, he yanks his hook free and practically falls on top of her, desperate to be touching again.
He grabs the panties from between his teeth and tosses them over his hook, his mouth now free to descend on her smooth skin. His hand comes up to squeeze her breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. She arches up against him, squirming beneath him, but she has him firmly trapped with her body.
She has to just take his assault, and he revels in it as he sucks a line of marks down her neck and across her chest. It's only fitting.
When he's finally satisfied with his work, he pulls away and rolls over flat on his back, still trying to process everything that had happened.
"Well," Emma says, rolling against his side, comfortably tucked up under his arm.
"Yes. Well. That was quite the surprise, love." He nuzzles at her hair and briefly considers picking her up and carrying her to their bed. But right now ever muscles feels relaxed after hours of tension, and he's not entirely sure he could even make it.
"You enjoyed it," she states, not a question. Of course he enjoyed it.
"Aye. But," he continues, pulling her closer against him, "I think next time, I'll be the one doing the tying up, thank you very much."
She laughs at that, her arm curling across his waist to bring them even closer together.
"Deal."