Wicked Woman, Chapter two: Until She's Sweet Again
He has no idea how long he's been in this airless, black room, but his ass has decidedly had enough of the stone floor. The rum he drank, who knows how long ago, is now a puddle of cold piss in the corner, and his stomach is growling. He wonders if she will let him die in here, this new Dark Emma?
She's still Emma, he tries to tell himself. He saw her face when he said he loved her… She's in there. Somewhere. If he can just get close to her, just make her remember…
He shakes his head at himself, as a memory of getting kicked in the balls in New York comes rolling into his head. He tried that trick before. It didn't work out so well then.
But that was before, comes his brighter side. That was before you'd ever touched her… Been inside her, made her cry out for you… Before she loved you.
He stands and leans against the wall. Ye Gods it is so sodding hot in this room! Impatiently, he lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor. Hopefully not in the piss, he thinks. Briefly he wonders about his jeans, and decides he wouldn't be able to get them over the shackles, and he'd look like a horses ass, if she came back in here to find them puddled around his feet.
At least its not the leather pants.
He thinks about yelling some more, but decides to save his strength. Even if she's out there and hears him, she won't come, he knows. On a good day, she's about the most stubborn woman he'd ever known in seven lands! Dark Emma could probably really win a pissing contest…
Piss. This room smelled like piss.
Killian rubs his hands though his hair and then over the scruff on his face, trying to judge how much longer it was… Is this two days growth? Three? It can't be that long—he hasn't had any water… Damn it, maybe she meant to let him die.
Finally the door opens, and he blinks rapidly against the light, trying to make out her form leaning against the jam. She's still in black. He thinks he can see blackness swirling around her like smoke… He must really need water.
"Jesus, it smells like piss in here." She reports.
""Yes, well. These accommodations you have so generously provided are without certain luxuries, like, say, running water." He says dryly.
"You haven't had running water your entire life, until practically last week! Now you need a flushing toilet? My, my look who has become the princess…" Killian smiles ironically at her.
"Yes. That is very droll." He tells her. Emma smiles as if she's actually pleased with herself. "Tell me, could I beg a drink of water, do you suppose? If it's not too much to ask, love."
Emma saunters into the room, and clucks quietly at him. She stops a couple feet in front of him, holds out her hand, and a tall glass of water appears in her grip. Killian gladly takes it, trying to ignore her disapproving look.
"I think someone has woken up on the wrong side of the floor, if you ask me."
"I didn't." he grunts between gulps.
"Care to tell me where the dagger is hidden, then?" She offers.
"I do not." He smiles and hands the empty glass back to her. She takes it and casually tosses it against the wall. He sees her eyeing his naked chest and shoulders. Is that appreciation in her eyes? Slowly she reaches out a hand and runs the tips of her fingers down his body, to the top of his jeans, and back up again—before she pulls hard at a clump of his curly chest hair. The surprise of it makes him yelp, and she smiles.
"Well, then. I guess we are done here." She turns to leave him again.
"Emma! Please."
She keeps her back to him. "Please, what?"
"How long will you keep me here? Where is this place?"
"You don't need to know shit, except that I want that fucking dagger. I will get it." Her voice is low and hard. She shuts the door behind her.
But the lamp on the wall flickers to life.
It's been hours.
He lays flat on the warm stone floor, trying to stay cooler. Aren't dungeons rumored to be cold and dank? He'd never actually been in one, as he was much too smart for that during his piracy days… He smiles to himself. Piracy days. This makes him think of the Jolly Rodger. And the Jolly Rodger makes him think of the ocean, and cool sea wind blowing in his face. He can almost feel it…
Suddenly, the door opens, and she is there again. Before he can sit up, he hears her snap and he feels the shackles fall loose from his ankles.
"Up, pirate. I'm board. If you entertain me, I will feed you. How's that?" She offers in a sweet voice that Killian is sure he shouldn't trust. It reminded him of her mother, Snow, when they were trapped in the alternate story, and she was the Evil Queen. What was it about these women, and their ability to make nice things sound…dangerous?
"Entertain you, eh?" He tries for a cocky grin, once he's standing in front of her. She lifts her chin and meets his grin with her own.
"Don't smile too much. You don't really know what will entertain me now, do you? Perhaps it will be…bloodier than you think." Killian's face falls, and a chill runs up his spine. Emma laughs loudly at him, and he is sure he's never heard quite that laugh before.
"Come." She lifts her arms above her head, causing Killing to almost flinch after her crazy words… and when she puts them down again, the cell is gone. He looks around at the warm woods and up at the high ceilings, painted like works of art. On the far side of the new room stands a large fireplace, a rug, and some furniture. He turns to find a large table set for a meal. The smells make his mouth water.
"This room…I've been here…"
"Yeah. I am 'borrowing' that lovers den Gold built for Belle." Emma says, sitting in one of the chairs at the table. "I mean, gross, anyway, right?"
"Wait. We are in Storybrook?" He asks. They looked here! How the hell could she have hidden..?
"Yes and no." Emma says, lifting a glass of red wine to her lips, looking at him innocently "Magic is funny."
Killian sits down in the other chair, when she points to it. "Go ahead. I thought you were hungry? You should eat. You'll need your strength."
"Is that a threat, then, darling?" He watches as she lifts the cover from the tray in front of him, and sets it aside. On his plate is what seems to be the most mouth-watering roast he's ever smelled. Without waiting to be told again, he picks up his fork and digs in. It isn't until he notices her watching him, a small smirk playing her mouth, that he stops and wonders if it's poisoned.
Emma giggles—again, not a sound she's ever made, exactly—and lifts her own fork to her mouth. She chews and swallows.
"Please, Killian. I could kill you with my brain—oh. I know you won't get that reference, and its too bad. Firefly was a fucking great show..." She shakes her head and he looks at her questioningly, clearly confused. She huffs before putting more food into her mouth. "I mean, I wouldn't need to poison you, asshole. I could just, you know. Do it." She shrugs.
She quirks a smile and drinks more wine. Killian nods slowly, and takes another bite. "I see. That's…assuring?"
"Oh, but I won't! " Emma swears, and she reaches out and places a hand on his arm, right above his hook. She rubs her thumb back and forth a little, causing him to stall his fork mid bite and watch her. Damn if she couldn't even now make his skin hum.
"I have decided something." She tells him. "I've decided, that you may be fun to have around until I get what I want."
Killian sits back in his chair, and studies her. She is clearly up to something. He wishes he knew this Dark Emma better… Can she read his mind, he wonders? Can she read his mind and find out where the dagger is? He watches her hand on his arm… He is sure she could.
"Oh don't look so paranoid!"
"Do I look paranoid? Maybe it is because you slightly scare the hell out of me." He isn't smiling when he says it. Emma removes her hand and lifts the glass of wine in a toast, her cold eyes sparkling.
After the meal Emma leads him to the fireplace, saying, "You must be starting to get cold, half-naked like that."
She makes a subtle flick of her wrist and the fireplace whooshes to life. Killian is not used to her using magic like this, and he waits to see where she will sit before he takes a seat at the far end of the settee. Emma pretend pouts that he's so far.
"Perhaps you could 'magic' me a shirt, love." He suggests.
Emma looks at him long and thoughtful, before she slowly smiles, and says, "Oh no, Captain. A shirt on you is a bad idea… In fact! I am actually feeling a little warm myself, so—"
She snaps her fingers and Killian looks to see she is still dressed in all black. But just barely. He swallows hard, and fights to remember he needs to keep his head about him with this version of the woman he loves.
Emma, meanwhile, leans back against the arm of the settee, and stretches out her long, now bare, legs so her calves and feet are draping across Killian's lap. She puts her arms up to cradle her head, which he can't help but notice puts her very perfect tits on full display, under the sheer black fabric of the short little nightie number she now dons.
"What's the matter, Captain?" She asks, arching a brow.
"You think you can control me like this…" Killian speaks softly to keep his voice from cracking. "I won't tell you what you want to know."
Emma takes one of her feet, and boldly rubs it against what she can feel is his hardening cock. He stills her foot with his hand, but somehow can't move it away.
"I told you. I'm just board. All these weeks, here alone, trying to figure out my evil plans…" She wiggles her brows at that. She bites her bottom lip. Killian watches. "A girl needs to get laid."
Killian's breath hitches at her words, and the new pressure her foot is applying to his hard-on. Then suddenly her foot stops the torturous motion and she is looking at him with not a hint of smile on her face.
"Don't you need to get laid, Killian? After these weeks without me?" Her tone throws him, and he's missing some blood to the brain, so it takes him a moment to realize the tone he hears is suspicion. Jealousy, even.
He holds her foot firmly, and looks into her strange not-Emma eyes.
"Emma, I have done nothing but miss you. Worry about you. You must know that, somewhere inside you. You must know," he reaches out his hand and runs it up her smooth leg, watching her face all the while.
"You must know that I could never have another woman, love. No one else will ever do."
Emma seems caught off guard, and he decides this is exactly what he needs to do. He needs to touch her. He needs to reach her. Love her…
He holds her gaze, and lifts the leg he's touching, adjusting his body between her legs. Slowly, he pulls her by the hand until she is sitting on his lap, facing him. He holds her close and buries his face in her neck, kissing softly, sucking softly at her pulse. The material of the negligee feels silky under his touch, and against his bare skin. Her breasts push against his chest and his hard-on has gotten painful in his jeans.
Suddenly Emma pulls back and takes his face between her hands. "What are you doing?"
He tries to pull his face away and kiss her, but she leans back further, not allowing him. Which only makes him groan, because her center is pressing down on his very uncomfortable, and raging hard dick now.
"I'm thinking I need to take these pants off, sweetheart." He cocks a half smile at her. "If I'm to properly 'entertain' you, as you requested."
Emma resists a moment longer, watching his face… and then she rocks her hips against him again and smiles when he groans.
"I mean, what are you doing treating me like fine china, Pirate? I'm not entertained…" She puts her mouth against his and flicks out her tongue, and then suddenly she bites his lip. He jumps at the pain, but she only lets go in order to press her lips to his ear where he hears her say words that shouldn't drive him as wild as they do, given his goal of reminding her who she is…how she's loved.
"Fuck me. Fuck. Me. Now."
Bloody hell. He's only a man.
In one swift movement he has scooped her up off his lap and down onto the rug in front of the fireplace. His hands are squeezing her tits and she is working his damned jeans open with her hands, until she get frustrated and then just snaps her fingers again, and he feels them pull right off of him, down to his feet. He pulls his head up to look at her, "Handy, that!"
"Shut up and fuck me."
Maybe it was her tone, maybe it's the damned charcoal she has all over her eyes that remind him of the whores he used to know, but he decides the he's going to fuck her, alright. He's going to fuck her until she's sweet again.
Killian kicks off his shoes and jeans. Then he kneels up on his haunches and roughly pulls her ass and hips up, legs around his waist, and before she even has time to adjust herself, he has lined his cock up and thrusts. He's never been so careless with her before.
She lets out a primal moan that almost makes him come right there.
Oh no. Not that easy.
He thrusts again and again, holding her hips, his fingers digging into her ass. Her tits bounce under the sheer material with each hard hit he gives her, and she only gets louder in her enjoyment. He sees her eyes roll back with pleasure.
Emma was never that loud in bed. The knowledge of that fact both excites him, and makes him feel like he's somehow cheating on her. Because damn, it turns him on. This wicked woman who wears his loves face, and screams with her voice, is going to make him come so hard it might hurt her. She looks at him with half hooded, sultry eyes that look so green in the firelight.
"Harder," She tells him. It's almost more than he can take. He can't look at her face, at those eyes. She's Emma…But she's not Emma.
Swiftly, he pulls out and flips her over, spreading her thighs and pressing his whole weight on her against the floor. He enters her again, and again. He's giving them both rug burns with his effort. He can hear her breathing hard, gasping for breath under his weight. He can feel her firm ass meeting him every time he gets deeper and deeper. She moans. Her legs spread wider to give his hips more room to plow her. He slips so easily in and out, because she is ever so wet… He feels her start to quake. Shit.
"Is this what you wanted, love?" he pants, his mouth against the back of her sweaty neck, in her tangled hair. Emma answers him with a scream of release, and he feels her body squeezing his cock in tight waves and shutters that make it impossible for him not to follow. Harder, and finally with a loss of rythm, he pushes into her and spills.
…They lay there like that trying to catch their breath for several minutes, until Killian realizes his weight is still holding her flat to the rug. He rolls off and stares at the cherubs on the ceiling, his chest still rising and falling heavily.
"Yes. That is what I wanted." He hears her say. She is still on her stomach, but her face is turned towards him, and she grins a pleased and tired grin. "Very entertaining."
"Happy to serve." He says, almost resigned, to the ceiling.
Somehow he feels like he's done something wrong. Like he's been disloyal. In fact, he's sure he has…That wasn't their usual love making, he knows. That was something else. Something that has never happened between them before, so fast and dirty… He didn't touch her heart, or pull her toward her Light. If anything, he tripped a little into the dark.
He's a little worried it won't be the last time.