A/N: I FINALLY saw Emma 2020, and apparently, seeing all that sexual tension required me to write a smutty one-shot. I really have no excuse. Hope you all enjoy!

"Interruption"

No matter what he tried, George Knightley couldn't get Emma Woodhouse out of his head. Or, more specifically, her firm and needy caress – the scent of her skin and the taste of her warm, giving mouth lustily pressing beneath his own.

With a grimace, he threw down his pen in frustration. He had been tasked to write some wedding invitations, but the wedding itself was rather far from his mind. Their honeymoon, on the other hand…

Swallowing, Knightley glanced over his shoulder at the servant dutifully standing behind him. "That will be all, thank you," he croaked.

"Sir?"

"Please," he admonished, "you needn't stay."

With a light bow, the servant opened the double doors and stepped out over the threshold, then promptly closed the doors upon his departure. Peace at last.

In truth, Knightley was continuously concocting ways to feign an illness, if only to give himself further moments of solitude. And Lord above, this was an illness – an ailment so acute that he went to bed each night with a hand curled between his legs. He and Emma were not allowed visits without a chaperone, so how else was he supposed to abate the tortured desire that whipped through him in fiery waves?

Emma, Emma, would there ever be another name that bore such torment?

Yet again, her wide, bewitching eyes brought him unrest, and gritting his teeth, Knightley wasted only a moment before palming himself through his breeches. A shuddery breath caught in his lungs. Hiding his face behind his free hand, he dipped his other beneath his trousers and traced along his swollen, aching cock. His body trembled at the shameful contact.

Curling his shoulders, Knightley groaned into his palm and curled a hand around himself, his eyes closing as he began pulling on his length with several firm, even strokes. How could she delight in depraving him of her touch? She had desired him too, had she not? And surely her kisses would suffice over the smooth, overworked span of his palm?

Clenching his jaw, a low, rumbly growl caught in his throat, and Knightley lowered his head until his brow pressed against the desk. The cool, even surface felt welcome amidst his impassioned state, and with his mouth growing slack, the pressure in his loins began to build. He dragged a thumb over his tip, smearing his pre-cum before jerking himself with far more gruff, lubricated thrusts.

That was when he heard it.

A soft, careful tread, feminine in approach, stepped lightly into the office with purpose.

Fearful of the pending humiliation, Knightley remained hunkered over his desk. His pulse thrummed wildly in his ears, and despite his present situation, his shaking hand did not slow between his thighs.

"Mr. Knightley…"

He gasped against the hard wood of his desk, squeezing his eyes shut. He gripped feebly at the surface with his free hand, only to flinch when Emma's touch lightly grazed his knuckles. "Miss Woodhouse," he rasped. "You shouldn't…you…y-you should not have come…"

Her hand curled more firmly around his, and finally, Knightley had the courage to lift his head. Their eyes locked, and a sharp, heady spark jolted straight to his groin. "Emma…"

Her thumb stroked his fingers, and then he tensed up as his cock began to pulse.

"I had to see you," she whispered, her blonde curls lightly cascading toward her chin. "Why have you pretended you only desire me upon our marriage bed?"

Ruddy-faced, Knightley swallowed and pulled on himself more desperately. "I…I-I do not intend to be an improper husband…"

"You desire me," she persisted. "How am I to help?" She indicated his disheveled state, her bottom lip catching between her teeth.

Flustered, Knightley found himself gazing down at her petite bosom, swathed in tulle and embroidered flowers. "Might I…? M-might I see you?" he choked. "Touching is most improper, but perhaps just a glance…?"

For a moment, Emma appeared alarmed. So much so, in fact, that he instantly felt worse than the scum on the bottoms of his boots.

"Emma, if I have offended you…"

She held up a finger, indicating silence. With her large, brilliant eyes shining with fondness and, dare he hope it, desire, she slid a hand beneath her neckline and freed herself of her corset. All at once, she spilled herself over the fine fabric.

Knightley jerked at the sight, his body convulsing with just the edge he had needed. His excitement spilled over his pumping, fumbling fingers, and his hips stuttered a moment before he exhaled, sagging back wearily into his seat.

"I trust that was satisfactory?" There was a teasing edge to Emma's voice, and despite his arousal having been sated, Knightley found himself distracted by her still-exposed bosom.

As she lowered herself to sit on the edge of his desk, he flushed and re-adjusted himself inside his trousers. Guiltily, he said, "You are not some common whore, you know. You are…" my dearest Emma. Expression softening, he placed a hand over her knee as their eyes met.

"I know," she whispered back, fondly touching his face. Bending down to kiss him, Emma devoured his startled breath and their lips joined, soft at first, but then with more need and aggression. He licked at her mouth, pleased when she mewled into his kiss. He pulled her down into his lap, and then her arms laced around his shoulders, her lips angling more strongly into his own.

When Emma withdrew again, Knightley was startled to find himself flat on his back, lying in bed with a stiff, unbearable throbbing between his legs.

Oh, bloody hell.

Panicking, he curled his knees toward his chest and swiped his bell from the nightstand.

After only a moment, his servant on call appeared in the entryway. "Yes, sir?"

"Please…a bath," he choked out, indicating the basin in the far corner of his room. "Please draw me one at once. Preferably cold."

Brow creasing, the servant stepped into the room and nodded. "But of course, sir. But wouldn't you prefer-?"

"No. No heat. Thank you." Running a trembling hand over his mouth, Knightley exhaled between his fingers and counted to ten. Two more months until their wedding…