Prompt: A kiss on the; shoulders (#16/25)
Setting: Storybrooke, CursedVerse
Now that she knew he was still himself, in one sense at least, it took a little more maneuvering to have her bending to his whims. His need to have her bending — bent over any piece of furniture in the proximity, trying to thrust his new memories right out of himself — into her.
On some nights she was just as frustrated as he was — albeit for different reasons, ones he would chuckle about as he undid her blouse. How dutiful Graham was slack in this department; how Jefferson had never been.
On others she would need a little more coaxing. Her pride standing taller, her resolve with it, until lips descended onto the side of her neck, urging brick after brick to fall as tongue and teeth dragged to her shoulder, pulling any garment off that laid in his way — rather unimpressed with her supposed indifference, her supposed lack of need — even while he knew just how unsatisfying her night before had been.
So long as he stayed away from those lips he could play the game. He could play as if she were anything he truly wanted anymore, not just something from the old days that maybe if he were to fuck just right, might be the answer to all his insanity — might bring back all she'd taken if he could only break her spell.
It wasn't much of a game, with him playing without a full set of pieces. Cheating was necessary. Gripping hands and dragging lips, leaving reddening impressions across her skin — that she would be forced to keep covered, away from the town and away from her little deputy, the toy with which she played — all but ensuring that in the meantime she would come to him again.
He was under her skin as she was his. Clawing and crawling, twining too tight. But it would only take a few more kisses, a few more bites to have her bending — maybe this time he would actually win.