PROMPT: I love fics where Hook talks dirty, explicitly dirty, to Emma. Could you do a "dirty talk" smutty drabble?

M Rated

Bodies pressed together, his tongue slid along line of her jaw. A tingle shot up her spine. His breath was warm and soft across her neck. She could feel his heart pounding through the soft cotton of his shirt. His leather pants creased as he slid closer to her, his hips pivoting up into hers as his hand crept under the hem of her skirt and began to tug at her tights.

"We can't…" she muttered with little conviction.

Yes, they were in the storeroom at Grannies.

But there was a party in full swing, the kitchen was closed and Killian had half heartedly kicked a box up against the door when they had tumbled inside.

"Can't?" he teased, his mouth so close to her ear, she felt her body tremble when the moist ghost of his breath met her skin.

She didn't reply. Instead, merely sank back against the metal shelves she behind her as he peeled away her tights and slipped off her heels. When his mouth met hers again in a hungry kiss she was almost breathless, such was the effect this pirate had on her.

"Don't you know how much I want you Emma? Christ, I've been rock hard for you since I stepped in this place." As if to prove his point he pressed his hardened cock against her thigh. She groaned, licking her lips in anticipation, a familiar longing growing in her belly. "You knew what you were doing. The way you kept looking at me, pursing your lips. And you wore this bloody dress that makes your tits look so good I just want to devour them."

She gasped as he buried his head into her cleavage, biting and nipping the skin, as his hand tugged them free of her dress, rolling her nipples into hardness before latching on with his mouth and sucking hard - making her cry out in that awkward space between pleasure and pain. "God they are fucking glorious."

Puffing out her chest, her fingers began to card into his hair. The feel of his scruff against the tender skin of her breasts made her heart race and dampness between her legs began to reach an unbearable height. She began to rock into him, desperately trying to raise a little friction where she desperately need it.

"Oh, you want me don't you Swan? I can feel it. You wanton little slut. Do you want me to touch you? To run my fingers down your slit and slide them in your pussy?"

A wave of heat and shame and desire all in one rolled over her. She should hate him for talking like this. She should hate it. But God, she loved it. Damn it turned her on. And damn didn't he know it.

"Yes," she managed to yelp softly into his ear and without warning his slightly chilled hand reached her damp heat. She flinched at first, the coldness unexpected - assaulting her senses as he began to circle her clit.

"Christ you're wet. So fucking wet. I want to stick my tongue in your cunt and taste your wetness. I want to smother you over my lips so you can taste yourself. Would you like that Emma?"

She couldn't reply. The motion of his fingers had been a catalyst. A burning, churning, drunken feel overcoming her as she tightened her fingers in his hair.

He swept down, burying himself between her legs - running a firm yet tender tongue along her slit, leisure lapping between her folds.

"You taste so fucking good Emma. It's like sweetness and cream and sex all wrapped in one." He quickly pressed a kiss against her, before rising up to her face again. "Taste yourself," he commanded and she lunged into him, plunging her own tongue into his mouth, tasting herself mingled with him feeling so turned on she may burst…

When his fingers began to slip inside she knew she didn't have long left. He pulled away from their kiss and began to nuzzle into her face, running his nose up against hers in a slow, calculated move.

"So tight. God - do you know how tight you are?" She shook her head. "Your cunt feels like heaven. I just want to slip my cock in and have you milk it for all it's worth."

A sense memory began to pervade her thoughts - their last encounter, on the Jolly, his hot thick length sliding slowly inside her, making her cry out as he filled her so fantastically she wanted scream.

"Come on princess," he ordered, quickening the pace of his fingers, running his thumb over her clot in short, rapid flicks, "Give up. Let it out. I might even fuck you later if you're good-"

And those last words did it. Black and starts and bells and heat and rippling muscles invaded her senses all at once until she sank forward into him, resting her heat on his firm chest.

"Fuck you Killian," she managed to say, a half smile on her lips.

"I told you," he replied, "Later - if you're good."