Hook + condoms
Thanks to treluna2 for suggesting sex ed/condom demo. This is one of the few one-shots I'd hoped to write from the beginning, so I was thrilled that someone suggested it!
This one-shot contains explicit sexual content.
To say that it had been a trying day would be the ultimate understatement.
Killian had woken up that morning both a slave to his mortal enemy and a dead man walking. Tonight, he was free and whole; his would-be murderer had been banished and left with nothing.
Not everything had been set right—Regina was mourning Robin's departure, Belle was certainly devastated, and there were several people presumed dead thanks to his own actions. But he was alive and safe.
And, of course, unable to sleep.
He wasn't really trying to sleep. It wasn't all that late anyway, and he was still waiting to see if Swan would send him a message, as she typically did before she went to bed herself. But there had been something in her eyes when they'd parted earlier, as she went to comfort Regina. And he knew exactly what that something was:
Fury.
Why wouldn't she be furious? Yes, she clearly cared about him; he relished the smile she gave him after he kissed her. That small, understanding, relieved smile told him what he needed to know most: that the important thing to her was that he was safe.
But there had been a little flicker in her expression when he'd quipped about being a survivor, and he knew she was angry, too. Because the night under the stars, when he'd reassured her that she would not lose him, he'd meant that he was capable of taking care of himself. And his rescue this evening had not been due to his own ability to survive; it had been due to Belle's cleverness, quick thinking, and mercy.
And worse, he'd almost died because of his own foolishness. A survivor indeed!
He was back in the same situation as he had been the night Swan had almost been trapped in that damn hat: she knew he'd lied to her, and the damage his lies had wrought. Whether or not she would leave him remained to be seen; the kiss and the smile gave him hope, but then again, she'd had plenty of time to think things over since they'd parted earlier in the evening.
He covered his face with his hand. He was a bloody fool to think he could be good enough for Emma Swan.
There was a knock at the door.
He thought he might be hearing things; the inn was old enough that he'd had to learn to sleep through all manner of creaks, groans, and rattles. But then there was another knock, louder this time, and much more obviously deliberate.
He quickly turned on the light beside the bed and scrambled to find something to wear. "One moment!" he called out, unsure of who would be visiting him. He grabbed a clean pair of underwear from the dresser and pulled them on before pulling on one of his old linen shirts. He didn't have time to do up all the buttons on one of his newer ones, and he'd be damned if he was accused of being a show-off again (although Ruby had seemed rather pleased with the view when she'd called him that last week).
He was very confused to find Swan waiting on the other side of the door. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Is everything okay?"
"No," she said, and he could see angry tears threatening to spill over. "No, everything is not okay. Can I come in?"
"Of course," he said with a sigh, gesturing for her to enter. It was finally happening: the woman he loved more than anything else in all the realms was here to tell him that they were through. How fitting that, not too long ago, he thought himself so vastly superior to the Crocodile, and tonight, they would both lose the women they loved.
As Swan stepped inside, though, he noticed something odd. "What's that?" She didn't answer his question, instead dropping the bag she'd been carrying onto the bed before sitting down next to it and crossing her arms. He licked his lips nervously. "Swan, please tell me what's going on."
"I'm trying to think of what to say," she said bitterly. "I had a whole speech in my head and now I can't remember any of it."
He let the silence sit for a few long moments, waiting to see if she could remember what she'd planned to say, before he spoke. "Emma, I'm so sorry." She looked towards him, and her eyes flashed, but she didn't speak. "I lied to you. I hid things from you. And because of my foolishness, we both almost died. I don't deserve you." He took a deep, shuddering breath, and it was only then that he realized the true extent of his own emotions. He would not cry; he would not have her pity him when this was his own fault. "I only ask that when things are a bit more calm that perhaps I would still be permitted to spend time with Henry. I understand if that's—"
"You think I'm breaking up with you?" she asked incredulously.
"Ye—you're not?"
"Uh, no. Why did you think that?"
"You're clearly furious with me."
"I'm not angry at you, Killian. Well, okay, maybe a little," she admitted. She sighed. "I'm mad at me."
"Why on earth would you be angry with yourself?" It was his turn to be incredulous, but for the life of him, he wasn't sure what she was talking about. "You had no idea anything was wrong, and as soon as you did, you came to my rescue. And don't say that it doesn't matter."
"Are you kidding me?" she asked, practically slamming her palms on the bedspread. "Are you fucking kidding me, Killian? Of course it matters!" He opened his mouth to repeat himself, but she shook her head. "No, I'm gonna talk now. I've gotta talk."
She stood and began to pace, taking up most of the space in the tiny room; he pressed himself into a corner as she did so. She was like the beginning of a storm, and he knew better than to get in her way. "The reason I'm so pissed, Killian, is that this is my fault." She looked up at him. "Let's work backwards. I didn't 'come to your rescue' until Anna told us about the hat and Gold. I didn't even know you were going to be there. I didn't even think you were in danger until I saw you there with your heart in his fucking hands!"
She wasn't shouting, but her voice was rising as she continued. "And just to make everything even worse, I knew something was up with you. You were acting weird and when you kissed me, it felt weird. And that last time, you grabbed my fucking arm and it was terrifying because I knew something was really wrong!" She was crying now. "And what did I do? Nothing! I did nothing, Killian. I ignored the fact that you were suffering!"
"Emma—"
"No, I have to finish," she said, wiping at her face gracelessly. "Because that's not even the worst part." She'd lowered her voice now, to a whisper. "The worst part is why you even got stuck working for Gold in the first place. It's because of me."
"I was trapped in Gold's employ because of my own recklessness," he told her firmly. She could not blame herself for his mistake; he would not let her.
"Why did you ask for your hand back?" she asked quietly. "Why did you do it?"
"I—" He paused immediately.
She nodded. "Because you thought it mattered to me. Because you thought the only way I'd want to be with you would be if you had two hands."
"Not exactly," he said gently.
"But close enough."
He didn't reply. He couldn't reply. She wasn't ever supposed to know how he'd felt, preparing for their date and trying to make sure everything went perfectly. She was just supposed to enjoy the evening.
"I made you feel that way," she continued. "I made you feel like you weren't good enough, like the hook was a problem or something. Well, it's not. It never was."
"I know that now," he said, almost whispering. "I think I knew as soon as I handed you that rose." She nodded, and for a minute, neither of them said anything.
"You've—I know you've wanted this for a long time," she said. "Being with me. Like, a relationship. I got used to that. I just thought you'd always be here for me, no matter what I did."
"I will always be here for you," he reassured her. "I know almost dying makes that seem unlikely, but—"
"That's not what I mean, okay? Can I finish?" He nodded. "I mean, I've taken it for granted that you're here for me. I've been so focused on my needs, I've been taking advantage of you. I mean, I noticed that you were upset and acting strange, and I barely even tried to talk to you about it! What sort of person does that?" She wrapped her arms around herself, as though she were freezing cold. "I wanted all the things about being with you that were fun and easy for me. But relationships aren't like that. You have to give, too. I haven't done that."
"That's not true," he said gently. "You are the most selfless person I've ever met."
"Not with you, I haven't been," she said firmly; her anger was back. "I was so terrified of being in a relationship again, after all the bullshit with Walsh and my own baggage with Neal, that I almost lost you because of it. I made you feel like you had to constantly impress me, that you had to be perfect all the time, that one tiny mistake would cost you everything. You didn't even believe that I would trust you over Gold, and it's because I gave you every reason to believe I wouldn't."
He didn't have a reply for that, although he knew she wasn't expecting one. He knew what she was referring to as well: the curse Zelena had placed on his lips. They'd never spoken about it since it had happened, but he could never forget the betrayal and fury in her eyes when she'd told him that she could never trust him again. He hung his head.
"Well, that's all over," she said firmly. "I'm done with this." He felt tears threatening to leak out again, and he focused all of his willpower on not allowing them to. For all that she'd claimed to not want to end their relationship, she was about to do it anyway. "I'm all in, Killian."
He nearly snapped his neck as he raised his head to look at her. "You're what?"
She still had her arms crossed, and tears streaked her cheeks, but most of her fury had melted away. "I'm all in. I want this to be a real relationship. I want you to be my boyfriend, and I want to be your girlfriend. I want this to be a real commitment, okay? I want it to be about both of us caring about each other, and not just about you trying to convince me not to leave."
She stepped up to him and grabbed the lapels of his shirt. "I'm not leaving," she said firmly. "I want this. I want it with you. I care about you, okay? I love talking to you every day, and I love getting lunch or dinner with you, and I love that you and Henry are starting to spend more time together. I love kissing you—"
He didn't need to be told twice. They were in private now, not in the back hallway where anyone could see them, and so he kissed her the way he'd wanted to kiss her then. It was messy and hard, and they both made small sounds of protest when their teeth made contact briefly. He sucked her lip into his mouth and bit down gently; she responded by releasing his shirt and tugging at his hair as she pulled him closer.
She wasn't leaving. He was the luckiest man alive.
The kiss finally slowed down enough for him to catch his breath. "Emma, I—" I love you. I love you more than anything in this life or the next. I love you, you brilliant, beautiful woman.
It was too soon. She might not run—she wasn't leaving—but it was too soon. He could tell from her expression that she was concerned about what words were about to fall from his lips. Instead, he changed the subject. "You brought something with you?" he asked.
"Mm, yeah," she replied. "Wanna see?"
"Sure."
She smirked at him, and his heart soared; her anger was gone. She went back to the bed, where she'd dropped the bag, and opened it. "Let's see," she said, rummaging through. She began pulling out items and naming them. "Hair brush. Toothbrush. Face wash. Moisturizer. Change of clothes. Pajamas. I assume you have toothpaste, right?"
"I do." He grinned. "Swan, are you staying the night with me?"
"Hell yeah, I am," she answered firmly. "And, uh, I also thought maybe we could use these." She pulled out a final item, which was a small, purple box made of what he'd learned was called cardboard.
"What's that?"
"Here." She handed him the box.
"'Condoms,'" he read out loud. What were condoms? He continued to read the packaging, which described the product as being made of something called latex and feeling like next to nothing. He flipped it over and smirked when he saw an illustration. "I assume this is something sexual."
"Yeah," she said a little shyly. "Look, part of the reason we haven't gotten around to this is all the stupid Storybrooke shit that always gets in the way. But I know I haven't really been in until now, and I think this is a good way to make that clear to you."
Something bothered him about the way that she spoke; he handed the box back to her. "Swan, I don't want you to sleep with me as a way of proving your feelings to me."
"No, I didn't mean it like that," she said, sighing loudly. "I want to have sex with you. I've already wanted to have sex with you. Remember our first date kiss?"
"It's a difficult kiss to forget." He recalled how, in that perfect moment, he'd forgotten about the thief ruining the date, or the fear of his hand turning against him. It had just been her lips on his, and sweet bliss.
"I know what I said about pillaging and plundering," she continued, stepping back over to him and pressing herself against him. "But if that apartment hadn't been full of cock-blockers, I would have pulled you in and torn your clothes off."
"I told you," he said roughly, caressing her arms with his hand and wrist. "I told you, it was because you hadn't been on a date with me yet."
"Mm, yeah, and you were right." She shifted her hips against him, and he groaned softly. "Think about just how long I've been waiting for it."
"I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I made you wait any longer," he acknowledged.
There was a flurry of activity as they both tried to accomplish several tasks at once. There was simply too much to do—they needed to remove all of their clothing, they needed to clear the bed of Swan's personal items, and they needed to keep kissing and touching. The last bit felt especially important, but it also made it more difficult to address anything else.
"Okay, okay, hold on," Swan said, releasing her hands from his shirt and her trousers; she'd been attempting to pull off the former while also unbuttoning the latter. "Screw romance for a sec—this is too hard. Just get naked."
He'd imagined their first time more often than he cared to admit, even to himself, and most of the scenarios that had crossed his mind involved the two of them lovingly undressing the other. He'd thought about slowly removing her attire and kissing every inch of her revealed skin as he did so. He'd thought about how he would breathe heavily with anticipation as she undid the closure of his trousers and slowly pulled them down.
There would be time enough for that later, though. As she'd already made clear, she'd waited long enough. So had he.
In no time at all, he'd thrown off his shirt and discarded his underwear; as Emma continued to pull off her clothing, he made his way around her and tossed her personal items, sans condoms, back into her bag, which he placed on the floor, out of the way. The condoms he wasn't sure what to do with, and so he set them on the nightstand.
He turned in time to see Swan finishing as she undressed. He loved that he could tell, just from looking at her, that she had an order to how she took off her clothing. Boots had come off first, which he knew because her jacket, which had come off second, was lying on top of them. Her shirt had been next, and was now hanging on the corner of the bed (very clearly unintentionally) while she leaned against the dresser to remove her stockings.
He filed that information away: Emma Swan, his girlfriend, took off her stockings after removing her shirt, but before removing her trousers. He smiled widely, unable to contain his happiness—his girlfriend, Emma.
It was a silly term, as was the matching boyfriend, but he understood what it meant. Henry had explained it to him when he'd apologized for his remarks during the Snow Queen's curse. And so silly or not, he couldn't help but delight in the fact that she was his girlfriend, that he was her boyfriend, and that he could learn things about her that seemed inconsequential and insignificant, but that were still important all the same. Such as the order in which she removed clothing.
Which reminded him—she was still partially dressed, and he was simply standing there, nude, staring and not assisting. Fortunately, in the time that he'd been contemplating the situation, Swan had discarded her jeans and was pulling off her brassiere and underwear.
He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy just how much smaller women's underwear was than men's. The fabric barely covered anything. Not that it mattered now anyway, because the underwear was now in a little heap at Swan's feet, and the brassiere had fallen to the floor as well.
"Jesus Christ," Swan said, breathing heavily; he couldn't tell if it was from arousal and excitement, the speed with which she'd undressed, or both.
Meanwhile, he was busy taking in the sight in front of him. He'd always admired her figure, but now that she was naked before him, he could see just how powerful her body was. Swan frequently showed off her arms (they'd been quite distracting at times in Neverland), and so he chided himself for being so surprised that her thighs and stomach were equally muscular.
Her breasts, as expected, and from the cleavage she'd flaunted on occasion, were marvelous. He resolved himself to put his face squarely in between them at the first opportunity.
She said something, but he didn't quite hear her. "What was that?"
"I never stood a chance," she repeated. She licked her lips. "You are unfairly hot."
"Oh?"
"You were hot in the pirate get-up," she said, taking a step towards him. "You're hot in your new clothes." She gently laid her hands on his shoulders. "But you are really hot naked."
"Well, thank you, Swan," he said. "I'd like to tell you how I feel about seeing you naked, but it might be easier if I showed you instead." He scooped her up easily and deposited her on the bed.
As he'd promised himself, the very first thing he did was press his face between her breasts. She giggled briefly; he managed to cut her off by shifting his mouth over to one nipple while his hand found the other. "These are perfect," he said, briefly interrupting his ministrations. "Absolutely perfect. You're going to have to dress while I'm unconscious, for I'm not convinced I'd willingly let you cover them up ever again in my presence."
"That would—that would get awkward—in front of my parents." Her words were interrupted by little pauses and gasps as she enjoyed what he was doing.
"I'm willing to withstand a little awkwardness," he murmured before enthusiastically flicking at her nipple with his tongue. She was squirming underneath him, and he quite liked that response. In fact, when he continued to flick and swirl with his tongue, but also gently pinched and plucked at her other nipple with his fingers, the squirming picked up quite a bit. And she started moaning; he was on the right track.
"I—I don't want foreplay tonight," she finally gasped out. He looked up at that, and if he wasn't already fully erect beforehand, he certainly was now. Her face was flushed and the green of her iris had practically disappeared. "I just want to feel you. I just want to have sex—we can go slow later."
"As you wish." He'd have preferred to make her come several times over first, but he wasn't foolish enough to turn her down. "I assume the condoms become relevant now?"
"Yeah," she breathed. "Yeah, lemme show you."
He helped her sit up, and she tore open the box, pulling out a shiny square packet. She tore it open and pulled out what appeared to be a slimy, shaped film. He lifted up the box to examine the illustration. "That looks nothing like it," he commented.
"It's not, like … solid," she said. "Here, you'll see when we put it on." She took the box from him and put it back on the nightstand before gesturing for him to angle his cock towards her. She paused.
"What is it?"
"Sorry, it's just … you have a very nice penis."
It might have been the tone of her statement, or the euphoria he felt from her commitment to him, or the emotional strain he'd been under for so long, but he laughed. He couldn't stop laughing.
"Oh my god, sorry, that was awful."
"No, no, it wasn't," He said, between chuckles. "Simply unexpected. And I'm not in a state where I can hide my emotions that well. It was a lovely compliment, Swan—thank you."
"You're welcome," she said, grinning and bumping his shoulder with hers. "And hey, you know that this," and she gestured between the two of them, "means that you don't have to hide your emotions from me. Like, if you're upset with me, or I'm annoying you, or you think I'm doing something stupid, you can tell me. And you don't have to be scared of looking weak or something in front of me." She grasped his hand with her free one. "I'm not going anywhere."
He swallowed hard, the amusement from her unusual comment now gone. "Aye, nor am I." He kissed her gently, and then less gently, and then—
"It's damp," he complained when she accidentally touched him with the condom she was still holding.
"Oh, yeah, they put some lube on it, but it's never enough. I brought more; it's somewhere in my bag."
"Lube?"
"Sorry—lubricant. It's actually pretty great. Anyway, let's get this on, okay? Why don't you hold your penis." She giggled. "Yeah, okay, and then I'll put this on."
He watched as she placed the condom at his tip and then began to roll it. It felt wonderful to have her touch him—he'd have been lying if he claimed to have never touched himself while thinking about this very situation. And now he could see how the condom matched the illustration; it was flexible, but shaped like a cock so that it could fit over it. It was quite tight, although not uncomfortably so, and went all the way to the base. "Why are you pinching it?" he asked.
"You have to leave room for, you know …" He raised an eyebrow. "Semen."
"Ah, I suppose that makes sense."
"Is it okay? I know some guys don't like wearing them."
"It's fine, love. Strange, yes, but not uncomfortable." He would have to see if this strange item enhanced the experience, or if he would be one of those guys who didn't like wearing them.
"Good." She smiled shyly. "Let me grab the lube."
Lubricant, as it turned out, was a modern type of oil used for intercourse. "Ah, I'm familiar with this concept," he told her, "although if you're so concerned, I wish you'd reconsider foreplay."
"Oh, I mean, it's fine," she said dismissively. "Honestly, even when I'm really wet, I like to use lube. I'm just gonna … Just hold still, I guess." She opened the bottle and squeezed lubricant into her hand. He thought she might lean back and apply it to her sex, but instead, she reached out and grabbed his cock. He let out a grunt as she rubbed the lubricant all over the condom; although the sensations were muted through the thin material, it still felt fantastic to have her hand on him.
"Okay," she said, practically whispering. "So, uh … what position do you want to do?"
"Do you have a preference?" he asked. She shrugged. "Then I suppose you should lie back, darling, so I can properly fuck you."
"Mm, I do like the sound of that."
Entering her was strange, with the additions of the condom and lubricant. She clearly shouldn't have insisted on foregoing foreplay; although the lubricant made her own wetness less necessary, she was very tight, and he could tell she was tensing up as he thrust gently. "Do you need me to stop?"
"No, just keep going. You were probably right about the foreplay, but my body will get with the program in a second."
He understood her meaning, and continued to push in as gently as possible before pulling out incrementally. It took a few moments for him to be fully seated inside her, but by that point, she had relaxed considerably. She nodded at him, giving him permission to do as he'd promised: to properly fuck her.
And he did.
They wrapped their arms around each other, and she wrapped her legs around him, as he fucked her hard. He wasn't surprised to find that she was quiet during intercourse; he could tell from her breathing patterns and the little gasps and grunts she made that she was enjoying herself, and used those as guides for which angle she preferred, or which speed felt the best. One day, maybe, she'd talk to him, encourage him, whisper filthy things in his ear, but tonight, he was content to enjoy the sounds she made.
He typically spoke more, saying all sorts of dirty things until he closed in on his climax, at which point he was known to devolve into incoherence. But after all he'd been through today, and after coping with the certainty that he would lose her, he couldn't think of what to say. He could only hold onto her and feel her and love her and make love to her.
She was right that the lubricant helped. The slickness it provided was of a slightly different nature than a woman's arousal was, and it was just so easy to slip in and out of Emma at the right pace. She felt incredible, although he suspected that she would feel even more incredible if the two of them weren't separated by the condom. At least he tried it; she was obviously just hoping to make the experience more pleasurable, and it wasn't her fault that he was one of those guys she'd referred to earlier.
His thoughts were cut off as he noticed that Swan was nearing climax; he picked up the pace and lifted himself up slightly so he could enjoy the view. And enjoy it he did; the feeling of her tightening around him, the sight of her face screwed up in pleasure, the sound of her moaning.
She panted heavily as she came back down, and her eyes fluttered open. "Oh my god, that was—holy shit."
"Satisfactory?"
"Yeah. Oh wow, yeah." She pulled him back to her and shifted her hips to give him a better angle. He groaned, and she whispered in his ear: "I want you to come, Killian. Keep fucking me. I want to feel you come."
So perhaps Swan did talk in bed. And who was he to deny her wishes? He thrust into her faster, and more wildly, until finally the sensations overcame the barrier presented by the condom. And then he was coming.
Swan continued whispering into his ear as his climax washed over him, but he could hardly hear her. Finally, the last wave of pleasure ended, and he carefully pulled out. "Swan, that was worth the wait."
"You're just saying that," she said; he couldn't tell if she was blushing, or still flushed from her orgasm.
"I am not, though I'm glad we stopped waiting," he admitted. He felt the wet condom against his groin. "Uh, what happens now?"
"Oh, let me help." It was strange seeing his release inside of the condom, and although he wasn't typically squeamish about his ejaculate, he didn't really like that it was trapped against his skin like that. Swan pulled off the condom and headed into the bathroom; she returned with a towel for him to clean off the end of his cock. "Was that okay?" she asked. "The condom?"
"It was unusual, but fine," he admitted. "I'd prefer to be able to really feel you, though, if you wouldn't mind forgoing them in the future."
"Huh?"
He frowned. "Sorry, love, it's just that you said that not every man enjoys using them. I admit that it's convenient that we don't have to worry about my release staining the bedspread, but I wouldn't mind cleaning up."
She winced. "Oh, god, I'm sorry. Killian, these are to prevent pregnancy. Easy clean-up is just a bonus."
Oh. That made much more sense; his release hadn't ever entered her, as it had been trapped inside the condom. "Well, that is one way to do that," he conceded.
"How did you guys handle it in the Enchanted Forest?"
"A man simply pulled out before climax. It wasn't always effective, although the elite could usually afford the potion necessary to rectify the situation."
"Yeah, pulling out doesn't really work very well," she said, a little wistfully.
"Henry?" he asked.
"Yeah. I didn't insist on using condoms, and Neal didn't like how they felt. I figured he knew what he was talking about when he said pulling out worked."
"Well, slightly less pleasure is a very small price to pay if you can avoid unwanted pregnancy."
She smiled. "Yeah. I mean, it's definitely the easiest way. We didn't really have a choice tonight."
"What do you mean?"
"There are pills you can take—well, that I can take, or other medical things that I could do. They're all reversible," she said, when he winced. "Really, they are. They just take time to start working, and you have to see a doctor to get started. But if I did something like that, we wouldn't need to use condoms."
"I'm not the sort of man who'd ask his lover to undergo a medical procedure just for a tiny amount of pleasure," he protested.
She rolled her eyes. "Killian, I don't really like condoms either, so I'd be fine with it. And they're all long term things, too. And easier on you—not that I'd mind, but you can't put on a condom with one hand, so I'd have to help you every time."
He winced. "So my options are for you to alter your body, or to make you apply the condom every time?"
"Look, why don't I make an appointment? We can go together, and the doctor can explain all the different things we could try. Killian, look at me." He obeyed. "We're talking about long-term birth control because I want to have sex with you regularly. Long-term."
He blinked as it took him a moment to understand birth control, but then he smiled. Emma Swan wanted to explore options to prevent pregnancy so that they could make love regularly. For a long time.
She was all in.
"I think that's a wonderful idea."
