AN: Ok. So I'm here. Two years later and a little tipsy, but I'm here. A lot has happened over the last few years that has kept me from fulfilling my promise to write a sequel to Dashing Pirate Rescue. Personally, I graduated college, started my career as a journalist, which took up most of my time, moved back to Texas, got engaged, and recently bought a house. Over the last month I've found myself jobless and depressed, so when life gives you depression you write smut?
I wrote this chapter two years ago and finished it today along with a bottle of wine. It was going to be longer but it felt like a natural stopping point for the chapter so I went ahead and left it at the minor cliff hanger. I hope it makes sense because it is going to feel like two people wrote this. It also wasn't beta'd, nor will it be, and I'm too drunk to re-read it and I just need to publish so I feel good about myself.
This story has been planned for years and has a very clear heading. I have planned for 15 swashbuckling chapters to diddle your pirate fantasies. There will be action, angst, drama, smut, humor, etc. Basically everything you can expect from one of my fics. Strap in, this is going to be a journey and I don't know when it will be finished.
P.S. Trying to write smut after this long took some liquid courage and I hate my muse for what she wanted me to write.
War of Pirates
Chapter One: Changing Tides
Previously…
Killian narrowed his gaze in an almost threatening manner as he yanked the envelope from the other man's grasp and held it between his fingers in inspection. It trembled in his palms as he turned it over, a skull and crossbones etched on the seal on the other side along with smeared blood left as a warning for its intended recipient.
"Who else has seen this?" Killian asked gravely, shaken to his very core at the weight of it in his hands.
"No one. Just myself and the raven master. Why—?" Madden's face scrunched together in confusion.
"Good. See to it that it stays that way." Killian moved toward a burning torch perched nearby and raised the envelope into the flames. It sparked fire, the embers licking up the envelope as it disintegrated in his hand.
Madden opened his mouth to speak but something about the crazed look in his captain's eyes kept him from doing so. He watched as Killian took the decayed remains and hurled them off the side of the ship and into the dark depths below — the envelope's contents lost in the ocean's pull to never speak its secrets aloud.
"Killian, what the hell was that?" Madden asked cautiously, rubbing his hand over his mouth.
"A summons." The ship's captain said, fraught by the envelope's mere existence and the implications of not responding to it. Killian's deep voice hung dark and ominous between them, a sense of dread falling over both men as they contemplated the consequences of what they had just done.
Two and a half years later...
The stench of smoke hung thick in the air, burning the lungs of those fleeing from the horror unfolding around them. The moon was barely visible underneath the heavy gray clouds rising up from the flames that enveloped the small village. Those escaping the terror coughed and sputtered, their eyes watering as they clung to their families.
Violent screams pierced the air as homes were burned to the ground and cattle whined to be set free from their ill-fates. Embers licked up the fragile wooden and straw structures, the flames flickering in the eyes of those that watched what little they had disintegrate before them.
Chaos had erupted throughout the village plagued by the sudden attack. Every which way, villainy and treachery wielded torches, swords, and pistols. The howls of agony were unmistakable as those who had sought war against them lit their homes on fire without remorse.
The onslaught had sent villagers scattering from their homes only to be met by the foulesome fiends that had targeted them. They were met with the high-pitched grunts of their enemies as they filtered out of their homes. Escape had been futile.
For those who managed to narrowly flee their homes, they were sought out in their attempt to make for the forest and treated to the unforgiving blades of the violent foes. Some were shot on site, but when the flints had run out, death became a far more personal endeavor. Death was cruel and swift, exacting in every way possible to kill the secret of those at fault.
Families were separated and slaughtered in front of one another viciously and without mercy, no matter how much they had begged for their lives. Their pleas fell on deaf ears, and often time served to spur on the bloody carnage.
Horror raged on, ushering and welcoming death like a mistress under the widespread slaughter of civilians. The senseless killing didn't deter the perpetrators from their mission, exhausting their vengeance against the innocent to send a direct message to those they wished to wound.
Amidst the screeching and the echoes of death that rang out around the village, was a single soul, relishing in the massacre he witnessed. Flames reflected in his dark eyes, a prideful and satisfied smirk on his face as he breathed in the pain around him.
Those under his command carried out his bidding without protest, doing their duties and committing their savagery. They cut down those who retreated, brutally mangled them without just cause until finally the air grew silent.
The man sighed in contentment, his nostrils flaring with the welcomed scent of death and war. His momentary savoring of his victory was interrupted when a man approached him, slightly out of breath.
"It's done sir." The man breathed heavily, panting between each word that left his mouth. "Shall I give the order?"
"Aye." He agreed, turning toward the flames. "King David should know who he is dealing with." The one in charge glowered over his conquest like a man depraved, a sinister glint behind his cold eyes.
The underling behind him retreated, the metal of his sword glinting in the billowing flames as he returned to a victim on his knees. The man in charge didn't flinch or as much as watch as the villager was pulled by his hair and the blade slashed at his throat rendering him lifeless.
Metal collided with metal, their sharp steel bodies whining and screeching against one another as they skirted the line between victory and death.
With feet firmly planted on the floor underneath him, Killian leaned forward, baring his weight down upon the blade currently poised against his in attack. His face split into a cocky smirk, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he warded off his opponent's blade, which was currently gliding across the two crossed in front him in defense.
"Quite the predicament you've got yourself there, love." He teased, flashing the confidence he wore behind his stormy blue eyes. "Tell me love—" He licked his lips, tongue darting out to seductively wet them as he inched forward, placing himself in her direct line of sight. "Do you wish to yield?" He dropped his voice into a low timbre, his eyes searching hers for any hint of deception.
Emma grunted under the strain of trying to keep him at bay, her sword trembling against his. "That all depends—" She alluded with a taunting smirk, long dark lashes blinking rapidly as she focused her eyes on his lusty expression.
"On what, my dear wife?" He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side.
"Mhm." She sighed longingly, her heated stare boring into his in an attempt to get him to lower his guard against her. She felt the grip on his weapons ease and her lips twisted into a concentrated line.
Pushing back against him, she brought her knee down into his belly — a maneuver that sent him coiling into himself to avoid it, but was distracting enough to gain the upper hand.
Killian took a step or two backwards. Still aware of his surroundings, he managed to catch the end of her weapon between his blades and rotated his wrist to knock the sword from her hand.
Her eyes widened as he easily divested her of her weapon and she immediately launched herself to retrieve it only to feel the cold point of his blade directed at her clavicle. The tip of his blade was insistent at her neck, her entire body moving in the direction that it bid underneath his command.
She clenched her jaw defiantly, her gaze narrowed but resolute as he guided her back onto her feet with the steel pressed against her skin.
"I have to hand it to you, love. You almost bested me." He leered at her, the dark hair on top of his head wild and angular as he walked her a few steps backward until he held her away from him with the length of his sword.
Raising her hands slowly, she kept moving back in retreat against his advances.
"You have nowhere to run, love." He reminded her with a sharp laugh. "Devising a plan at this stage would be unwise." He warned, recognizing the way the cogs in her mind were turning to develop an escape.
Seizing the blade in the palm of her hands, she cried out and twisted it in his grasp so that the hilt of the weapon knocked into his cheek. She slid out from under his hold, rolling onto the ground to grab her own sword, which he had relinquished from her hand.
Wincing slightly as the side of her body hit the ground, her fingers closed around the hilt of her sword and she righted herself to defend herself against his incoming attack. Her eyes widened as he loomed over her in a dangerous manner.
In mere seconds, Emma had abandoned her primary weapon and slid herself between his splayed legs. Flinging her body around, she landed a firm kick to his lower back sending him stumbling forward.
One metal blade clattered to the floor as she pulled herself up and on to her feet behind him. He barely gave her a moment to respond before he was hauling her against him, an arm wrapped around her chest and the other holding his cutlass against her throat.
Flailing against him, she curled her hand around his forearm and tried to pry herself from his grasp.
"While I admire your fighting spirit, you really ought to be careful around such sharp objects." Killian said with an assuming rumble in his chest. "But please, do carry on." He nuzzled his nose into her neck, admiring the way she looked in the reflection of his sword. "I so do love to see you struggle against me." He murmured, his hot breath ghosting her skin as she squirmed in his hold.
Her eyes fluttered shut, a moan catching on her lips as he grinded himself against her, letting her feel the swell of his cock bulging against his leather pants. She whined and rocked back against him, the contact drawing a hiss from his lips.
"You know I might be inclined to penetrate your body elsewhere—" He rasped, the blade still clutched in his hand while the other trailed over the length of her body. "Tell me darling, how would you like to feel my sword fill you here?" He expressed with a groan at the way she shuttered in anticipation against him.
"Oh, you are a filthy lass." He observed hotly in response to the obscene sounds that left her lips. His twitching fingers bunched at the fabric of the shirt tucked into her leather pants, pulling it deftly from the waistband.
Her breathing hitched when she felt his hand disappear underneath her shirt, and his fingertips caressed her heated skin. The pads of his fingers slipped lower, darting past her breeches, causing his touch to skim across her mound.
A sharp gasp fell unbidden from her lips as the thick metal he wore around his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin. She mewled expectantly, the contrast of cold metal on warm skin sending a wave of moisture straight from her core.
Spreading his fingers apart, he stroked her slowly letting her neck capture his moans as he explored her. The heat wafting from her body drew him in, his fingers aching to touch the tantalizing skin buried between her thighs — somewhere he desperately longed to be. He let out a growl of frustration when he met resistance, his wrist pressing against the tight leather that prevented him from his goal.
Loosening his hold on the blade, he dropped it to the ground and pushed her body against his with a strangled whine. He gave her a few teasing thrusts before his hands resumed their quest for her body and began to fumble with the laces of her trousers that kept her hidden from view.
Killian furiously worked the laces free as she rolled her hips back against him, rubbing herself against the outline of his shaft encased in his leathers. "You are going to be the absolute death of me." He hissed into her ear, his lips pressed into the shape of it.
"And you need to stop getting distracted by your—" The words died on her tongue when the material of her pants parted and she felt his fingers stroke through the heat gathered between her legs.
"You were saying?" He smirked against her skin, his voice dropping into a low seductive lilt as his fingers teasingly swept through her wet folds.
She inhaled sharply, her head falling back against him as she wriggled and tried to direct his touch to where she needed him most. "Please." She whined hoarsely, her body demanding what she knew only he could provide.
"Mhm." He mused in appraisal, his fingers gently stroking her swollen sex but refusing to give her the contact she so desperately craved from him. "Are you going to stop holding back?" He teased sensually, dragging his fingers through her arousal, collecting it covetously.
"I can't." She whimpered, pushing herself into his fingers to urge him on.
"I can sense your fear." He told her huskily, burying himself in the nape of her neck. "I can practically smell it." He breathed her in deeply as his cock jerked toward the source of its pleasure, seeking out its other half.
"It smells an awful lot like your desire for me—" He emphasized his words by soaking his fingers in her essence. "Hot. Wet. Needy." He pressed a kiss into her skin upon each word. "Just begging to be released—"
She tensed against him, a sob catching in her throat as she felt a single digit sheath its way inside her, stroking her in earnest.
"Open up for me and stop holding back." He commanded, pumping his fingers in and out of her rhythmically. "Your body craves it just as mine does." He groaned, his lips gorging themselves on her skin while he worked his finger inside her. "So stop overthinking it and give into your urges—"
Emma jerked against him and whined deliriously, riding out the pleasure of his finger, his ring kissing her clit on every long languid thrust inside her as it hovered over her swollen flesh.
"You never need to fear hurting me." He murmured in near trance as he brushed her clit with the pad of his thumb causing her to buck wildly against him. "When you're with me, I want you to give me your all. Make you succumb—" He whispered huskily.
Her eyes rolled back into her head and she cried out as he curled his finger inside of her and increased the pressure on her clit. She could feel the pleasure building within, her body responding like a marionette to which he controlled the strings.
Beckoning his fingers within her, commanding the pleasure from her body, he felt her body clench around him tightly. She began to convulse and whine against him violently, her orgasm just within reach—
"Daddy!" Liam's high-pitched squeal caught their immediate attention.
With blonde hair askew and her brows furrowed in frustration, her eyes flew open to see their three year old son bounding toward them with determination.
Killian tried to suppress the growl of frustration that emanated from his throat at the sight of their son giggling frantically as his nurse gave him chase, unable to apprehend him. "Impeccable timing as always." He cursed himself, face creasing with annoyance.
Her eyes widened and she swallowed as she grabbed Killian's wrist and withdrew him from her. Stumbling forward from the unsated ache between her legs, she ran her hands through her messy curls and bent down to receive the child.
She blinked rapidly in bewilderment as he ran right by her and collided head first into Killian's shin.
"Bloody hell." Killian muttered to himself as he swayed slightly while Liam clung to his leather pants. Snapping his head to the side, he tried to control the miserable frustration coursing through his veins at the interruption.
"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Liam curled his fists into Killian's pants and jumped up and down with excitement while the man brushed the boy's untamed dark locks, reminiscent of his own.
Emma couldn't help the contented sigh that left her lips at the familial display. Adjusting her shirt over the opening over her pants, she strode toward them with the intent to greet their overly rambunctious son.
"I'm so sorry your highnesses, he managed to slip right through my fingers." The woman stuttered, panting heavily as she clutched her lower back.
"It's quite alright." Emma allowed before bending down to collect Liam with his uncontrollable laughter into her arms. She held him tightly to her chest and smothered him in sloppy kisses.
Killian groaned in aggravation, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shifted uncomfortably where he stood. He turned slightly, his pained and frustrated expression locking with Emma's as she embraced their son in her arms.
She looked over at him with sympathetic eyes in silent apology for the outburst.
When Killian took his face in his hands and growled out in annoyance, Emma winced into Liam's hair, rocking the boy in her arms. "Come on sweetheart, let's give daddy a moment." She insisted, turning her back away from him.
"I really am sorry." The nursemaid pleaded once more, slightly distressed by the display in front of her.
"No. No. It's okay." Emma whispered faintly, trying not to draw too much attention to her husband.
Killian tightened his jaw and spun around so he could adjust himself in his pants. Wincing painfully, his fingers pulled at the laces to loosen them in order to give himself some breathing room. Lastly, he wiped the remnants of his wife's passion on his pants, leaving a slight sheen on them.
He groaned to himself as he rubbed his hands down his face and hung his head. He dragged his fingernails roughly over his scalp, tugging at his hair in frustration.
He loved his son — he really did. How could he not love something that was such a perfect representation of him and Emma? At the age of three, Liam was as stubborn and strong-willed as his uncle, as annoying as his grandparents, as fiery as his mother, and as determined as he was. The combination of such strong character traits was mentally lethal.
He was drained — exhausted beyond recognition and was clinging to any little shred of normalcy he had. Killian knew that his life would change when he became a father and had been aware that sacrifices would have to be made in the name of his family, but his son had eaten up every last bit of his wavering sanity.
Each day his son had managed to suck the life right out of his lungs until he barely recognized himself. He didn't have much of an identity outside of this rigid familial construct due to the constant reminder of the lad's existence.
Early on it had been the sleepless nights and endless feedings. But as the child grew in size, so did his curiosity and his mobility — it had all happened much too fast and he was barely given a moment to adjust to it.
The boy was now in possession of his every waking moment. He couldn't eat, sleep, or fuck without the little lad inserting himself into the equation. There was no escape, really. Any time he turned his head, there he was like clockwork. As if he was waiting for just the right time to reveal himself.
He would never be alone again — and that thought scared him more than anything else he had ever endured.
"Is daddy alright?" Liam asked curiously, wiggling in Emma's arms as she tried to keep his keen interest in check.
Killian let out a long exasperated sigh and turned on his heel before crouching down to resume his duties as a parent. "Come here, lad." He requested, craning his fingers inward toward himself.
Emma could barely keep a grip on him before he was flinging himself out of her arms to run straight into Killian's. She pressed her hand to her mouth, smiling softly as Liam buried himself into his father's chest.
He cupped the back of Liam's head, rubbing his hair with his thumb as he pressed his chubby cheeks into the nest of chest hair poking out from the neckline of his shirt. "I love you Liam." He sighed longingly into the boy's hair, clutching him into his body protectively as he tried to banish the negative thoughts from his mind.
Killian's breath hitched at the sound of Liam yawning into his chest. "I think it's time for his nap." He observed, tilting his head toward his wife.
"Here. I'll—" The nurse maid moved to tend to the boy.
"No. It's alright." Killian waved his hand dismissively. "I've got him." He assured the woman as he gathered his son into his arms and stood up.
Emma couldn't help the smile that broke out across her face at the sight of her once fearsome pirate captain gripping a three year old boy.
Liam fussed in his arms, mumbling feebly into his chest as his fists curled and uncurled around the material of his shirt. "His bed or ours?" Killian asked in exasperation as he shifted his weight to better support his son.
"Well, that depends." She sauntered over to him with a mischievous look in her eye.
"Mhm?" He hummed, licking his lips ravenously.
"Are you tired?" She asked, her wandering hand inching up the side of his body in a suggestive manner.
"Do I look tired?" He responded, gesturing down to the throbbing flesh between his legs with his eyes.
"No. Not at all." She supplied with a gentle moan, her hand slipping underneath the neckline of his shirt to feel his silky curls underneath her fingertips.
Killian stiffened, stifling a hiss as she ran her fingers over his chest appreciatively. "It isn't wise to tease a man, love." He growled in warning, rocking forward into her touch.
His face fell when Liam fidgeted in protest against the activity between them and whined fitfully. Liam opened his mouth and wailed mercilessly in his tired discomfort sending the glass sconces shattering under his deafening cries.
"So, our bed?" Killian suggested, his eyes bulging at the magical display as he rubbed the boy's back with small soothing circles.
"You think?" Emma deadpanned before moving to take up vigil beside him. Placing her hand around him and Liam, she walked them carefully back to their quarters.
Despite the child, with his limbs draped over theirs as he slept between them, Emma and Killian managed to get a few hours of sleep before being summoned to dinner, which in a castle meant a royal affair in formal attire.
He was mildly grateful that Emma had offered to take Liam back to his rooms to get washed up and changed for the evening. There were far fewer precious moments of solitude that domestic life had to spare for him and they didn't come along too often, but when they did he made the most of his time.
The moment the door closed behind them, his shoulders sagged in relief. He rolled his body until he reached the edge of the bed before sweeping his legs onto the floor. Taking the hem of his shirt between his fingers, he pulled it up and over his head. He glanced over to the closed door in hesitation as he balled the shirt in his fist and threw it to the ground.
He helped himself off the bed with a concerted groan, stretching his achy muscles as he padded off toward the washroom. With a shaky sigh, his hands began to pluck at the laces of his leather pants, the material giving way so that he was able to pull them down his legs.
Killian moaned at the sensation of ridding himself of the pants, whose leather had been unforgivingly rubbing up against his shaft for the better part of the last five hours. One of the most difficult adjustments to make for both of them as they went from life with an infant to a toddler was the constant need of clothing — something he was quite unaccustomed to.
Kicking them aside, he moved over toward the wash basin. Leaning forward and cupping his hands underneath the water, he splashed the water onto his face. His mouth parted at the sensation as he spooned it onto his face, taking care to soak every inch of his face with water before reaching for the cake soap beside him.
Taking the soap between his hands, he lathered it into his skin. Pushing the soap aside, he brought his sud-covered hands to his face and began scrubbing in rough circular motions to wash the sweat and grime from the day.
Once finished, he dragged his hands through the soapy water and pushed it up toward his face. Beads of water dripped from the dark stubble lining his jaw as he brought his palm across his face to aid in the process of removing the excess soap from his skin.
Driving his hands underneath the water, he allowed the liquid to soak into his skin before bringing it up through his dark locks, sliding the back from his forehead. His fingernails dug into his scalp, combing through the untamed mop of hair on his head until it resembled an acceptable angle.
Lastly, he grabbed a clean cloth sitting adjacent to the basin and shoved it into the basin without thought. He let the water cling to it before wringing it thoroughly and brought it over to his chest.
Working the cloth over in fluid circular motions beginning with his shoulders and bringing it further down his chest. The warm cloth brushed over the defined muscles in his breast hidden beneath a generous smattering of dark hair. Trailing lower, he attentively swept the cloth over the grooves of his abdomen, tracing each curve and dip bearing a myriad of scars — some new, others faded tales in his memory.
The violence his body once bore proudly had slowly been fading from existence the further he was pulled into the prison of domesticity. Six months was far too long to be parted from his true home — his family — his duty. He had traded that life for the other, and in one way it had filled one vacancy in his heart while simultaneously creating a new one.
With an exasperated huff, he threw the wet cloth back into the basin with an audible splash and closed his eyes. Bowing his head forward, his fingers curled against the edge of the basin as he rocked back and forth on his heels. Each passing moment of deafening silence grew in the despondent and frustrating detachment he felt within these walls.
Nothing was enough. Nothing seemed to fulfill him at the conclusion of the day. Each day he tried to find it and each day he failed to grasp a hold of something — anything — that brought him purpose outside of the life of being a father and devoted husband.
Drawing in a long breath, he peered up at himself in the mirror hanging above the basin to meet a set of unfamiliar eyes staring back at him. He barely recognized himself — this life had tamed him, hinged his sanity, and tempered his violent desires.
The lines in his face had softened, void of any chaos or wickedness. Long gone was the sinister man that could break someone down with a single look. The man before him looked broken down and conflicted — the face of a recovering addict whose will power was being tested.
He needed to feel it again — the exhilarating feeling of taking a life — to hear the way flesh gave underneath his plunging blade and emerged with fresh thick crimson running down the cold steel. He could hear it calling out to him — the animal inside him that had been caged and tamed into a docile creature that no longer needed the violence to survive. Still — Killian could hear it roar in demand to be fed — to be cleansed of its sobriety.
Just the thought of it made his cock weep with desire — a painful throbbing that brought tears to his eyes. The only thing anywhere near as satisfying as his thirst for blood was his need for pleasure. The torture was near the same — the two working in tandem to bring about an end to his suffering.
There was something seductive about violence that called to him — something depraved and indecent seeing it drip from its victims. One could never tire of the sensation of leering over his kill, admiring it like a sadistic work of art — inspired by his insatiable taste for blood.
Blood with its potent heady scent mixed with the screams of death beckoned him forward — the desperate pull of needing to be in the thick of the violence nearly too hard to fight. Anything to make him feel again. To live again. To breathe—
His mouth parted in agonizing ecstasy as he wrapped his hand around the base of his throbbing shaft. The demon within praised him for the contact — a half-satisfying offering that would placate the ravenous beast but never fulfill it completely. It was starving — ravenous to be placated.
Everything inside him was in a state of impossible torment, blaming him for its abstinence. The devil was deviant in its request as his cock throbbed mercilessly in his hand. His legs trembled violently as he pumped himself furiously, his face etched in the torment that had been plaguing him and demanding him for its release.
The rhythm of his strokes against himself were heedless, provoking him with the darkness's delicious desires upon him. He felt weak against its assault upon him, the severity in its search for a glorious ending preying upon his vulnerability.
It wanted to take his pleasure as a poor substitute for its yearning for blood. His commitment and devotion to it was questioned with every pass of his fist against his hard flesh. The debauched sounds leaving his mouth rivaled the war cries he reserved for battle — the inner war waging inside him for his lust wreaking havoc upon the source of his sexual repression.
Slapping his hand hard against the wall, he gave into the whims of the darkness, submitting his pleasure over to it without rebuttal in exchange for just an ounce of resistance. Guttural moans flew from his lips like a satanic chant as he thrusted his hips into his purposeful movements.
His fingernails dug into the wood, tearing the wallpaper as he clawed savagely into it. He worked himself in his hand impatiently — anything to appease the frustrating rage caused by his deranged compulsion.
That was exactly how she found him when she stumbled into the bathing quarters. She went stoic in the doorway, her entire body rigid and tight as she watched him pleasure himself. Even from where she was standing she could see his gritted teeth, his face contorted in painful pleasure, and the frustrated tears brimming behind his closed eyes as he rutted violently into his hand.
Drawn to the sound of his animalistic groans of pleasure, she took a few cautious steps toward him. She barely breathed as she approached him with a keen tilt of her head, her satin robe billowing open as she walked. She was operating on pure instinct — the sounds of his distress mingled with the grunts of frustration letting her know how badly he needed his release.
She reached out toward him with a timid hand, her palm shaking as it slipped between his shoulder blades. The corded muscles rippled underneath her hot palm, his body flexing underneath her touch in recognition.
A deep masculine moan fell from his lips, his body nearly falling forward at her proximity and welcoming her. The demon responded to her nearness, the interruption sparking something desperate and primal inside him — something that needed to stake its claim on her and to lose itself inside her without boundaries or restraint.
Her hand traced over the muscular ridges of his back as she leaned forward, dropping reverent kisses in the wake of her exploration.
His strokes faltered at the contact and he lurched forward, his hand sliding against the wall. "Emma…" Her name left his lips, the sound tormented and strained.
She clamped her legs together, a wave moisture coating her inner thighs at the sight of him. Shifting in place where she leaned against him, she brushed her legs together in search of friction. An arm curled around his hip, her fingertips lightly caressing his skin as she trailed her hand lower.
Killian gasped, a sense of yearning building inside him at the feel of her gentle and purposeful hand covering his.
"Show me." She beckoned into his skin, her warm breath tantalizingly caressing his flesh drawing a strangled moan from his lips.
The sounds of his stilted breathing filled the room as she urged him to aid their joined movements against him. They worked their hands in tandem over his shaft, each pass increasing in pressure around his throbbing flesh.
Her breath ghosted against his back, brushing her cheek into the ridges of his scars in near worshipful fashion. She allowed him to control the veracity of their united actions, enthralled in every pleasurable noise that left his lips.
"Gods." He shuddered as he continued to thrust his hips into their hands, her thumb leaving him to gently brush against the tip of him. His mouth parted as she bucked back against him from behind encouragingly.
Curling her unoccupied arm around him, she raked her fingernails over the curves of his abs, tracing the outline of each toned line. She hummed as she grinded herself against him to the pace of their combined ministrations, letting her arousal for him slide against his backside. "Come for me, Killian." She commanded with an unwavering tenacity in her voice.
He undulated his hips, arching forward into their desperate and fluid strokes against him. He drove his hips forward into their joined touch, each drag wrenching the pleasure from his body until his body gave in.
Throwing his head back, a hoarse cry fell unbidden from his mouth as he spilled himself hotly into their hands. Their knuckles bore the fruits of their labor, his arousal marking them as they worked them through his high.
He was still hot and heavy in her hand when he rapped his fist against the wall, his ragged breathing ceaseless despite his release. It still wasn't enough — his body demanded and craved more. The simple offering hadn't been enough to sate his ravenous appetite.
He seized her with a possessive growl, flipping them around, and crushed her against the wall. With a predatory look in his eye, he studied her carefully, appraising every inch of her exposed body. Gripping her wrists in his hands, he threw her arms against the wall behind them, holding her firm as he crushed his lips against hers.
She gave into his kiss, slanting her lips against his with equal fervor. It was aggressive, his lips pressing feverishly against her mouth in an almost bruising fashion. She mewled against him, his mouth capturing every sound he produced from her throat.
"Need you." He dragged his lips from hers as he frantically grinded against her inner thighs, indulging himself in the moisture gathered there.
"Killian…" She cautioned, rolling her hips against his attentions against her and squirmed in his hold.
"Consequences be damned. I need to have you." He let out a guttural groan as he nuzzled her cheek. "I need to feel you — lose myself inside you. I want to fill you — possess and claim you with my body. I'm bloody tired of not being able to come inside you."
She broke free from him in response to his desperate request. Taking the base of him in her hand she led him to the scorching heat between her legs. She gasped as he slipped between her folds, the head of his cock brushing against her sodden entrance.
He grinded himself back against her, teasing her with a defiant twist of his hips as he took the hand above her head in his. In the process of pushing forward to envelope himself inside her there was an urgent knock at the door that drew their attention to their bed chamber.
Emma's eyes closed in annoyance at the sound and grimaced when she felt him reluctantly pull away from her. She could hear his grumbling as he fumbled around for a towel to shield himself with as she folded her robe over her naked body. Holding it in place with her arm, she swept her hair back in frustration.
Killian was in the process of wrapping the towel around his hips when their son promptly ran inside the washroom and hit Emma straight in the knees, clinging to her desperately.
"Hello, sweetheart." She ruffled his hair with an exasperated sigh. Without loosening her grip on her robe that concealed her modesty, she lifted him in her arms, settling him at her hip with a concerted grunt.
The boy's father turned around to see Liam's nurse standing at the door, a sheepish look on her face. "I'm so sorry—" She grimaced at the unsettling sight in front of her.
"It's quite alright." Emma said in a forgiving tone. "We know how he can be—" She stated, recalling his tantrums that on occasion have shattered fine china and blew the flames from their lanterns.
"Her majesty also sent me to collect you for dinner." She told them with a kind nod, her hands wringing together in front of her.
There was an audible groan from Killian as he fisted his hands in his hair in frustration, and rocked back on the heels of his bare feet. She looked toward him sympathetically before turning her attention back to her son.
"Well don't you look handsome." She observed softly, her eyes flitting to his charming and regal ensemble that consisted of a pair of tan breeches and a forest green velvet doublet. She admired his appearance with a soft smile of approval as she fixed the hem of his jacket.
"Mommy and daddy have to finish getting ready. Why don't you go with Sarah to the playroom and we will all go down to dinner together?" Emma suggested, caressing the velvet material the boy wore.
"But I don't want to." He frowned, fisting his tiny hands in the opening of her robe.
She cupped her hand over his to still his movements and prevent him from tearing the robe off her body. "I know. But if you do this then we can spend more time together later." She assured him sweetly.
Liam eyed her as if contemplating the offer before nodding in agreement. He jumped from her arms and ran over to his nurse, practically dragging her out of the room and out the main door.
Emma placed her face in her palms and groaned. She dropped them down with a huff and turned toward her husband. "It was so much easier when he was an infant." She lamented, gesturing to the open door from where their son had just taken his leave.
Killian placed his hands on her shoulders, urging her to look up toward him. "You and I both adore the young lad, but I can't say things haven't been difficult." He acknowledged regrettably.
"This is just a phase — a rough patch." She reassured him, shaking off any wayward thoughts of motherhood.
"Emma, it's barely been a month of this behavior. I don't know how much I've got left in me," He exhaled deeply. "The boy is exhausting. I've barely touched you in weeks and it is driving me insane," He complained, prompting Emma to pull him toward her in a loving embrace.
"Don't get me wrong, I love being around him, but he is always right there—" Killian groaned into her shoulder, failing to relax into the comforting touch of her palms rubbing against his back.
"I've seen the way you are with him. You are a wonderful father. You don't give yourself nearly enough credit," She told him in earnest, feeling the rough planes of his back digging into her fingertips. "He adores you and he's lucky to have a father like you."
He sighed regrettably, remiss to accept the praise when he felt as though he was failing miserably at fatherhood. "I don't deserve you," he relented despite his internal protests.
A soft smile crept to her lips and she nuzzled her cheek against the crook of his neck. "Don't be so sure of that." She teased with a light-hearted laugh. "I could stay like this forever, but I do believe we are wanted in the dining hall." She reminded him, pulling away slightly, canting her head to the side to read his expression.
"Are you going to be alright?" She asked, extending her hands toward him to caress his jaw as she searched his face.
"I'll be fine." He provided with a nod of his head. "Let's just go get ready to face your parents."
Killian inhaled deeply, steeling his nerves undoubtedly caused by the boy that eagerly awaited his parents on the other side of the cracked door.
The only thing keeping him grounded at that moment was the presence of the small hand resting along his lower back. Placing himself in the doorway, he rested his head against the doorjamb and let it creak open by applying the slightest pressure against the door to the nursery.
The sound immediately alerted the occupants of the room to their presence, both nurse and son turning their attention to the unannounced couple.
"Daddy!" Liam shrieked, shoving away from his nurse in a rush to greet his newly emerged parents.
Killian's face softened with the acknowledgement of the simple but effective term of endearment from his progeny as he crouched down and extended his arms to receive his son.
Liam pushed himself up, his knees grazing the tower of blocks he had managed to erect in their absence and sent the pieces of the makeshift castle scattering across the floor. He bounded toward them, his breath ragged with excitement as he stepped over the minefield of toys in his path.
Once clear of the obstructions, he launched himself into his father's arms, allowing himself to be caught in his embrace. Cupping his head gently, he pulled his face into his chest and placed his head lightly atop the boy's raven colored hair. Releasing an exasperated sigh, he clenched his eyes shut in silent apology.
"Dad?" Liam's voice cut through the void of his racing mind. "Dad!" Liam shouted, struggling to break free from his father's tight hold on him.
Killian relinquished him solemnly, his body slipping away from him. The boy positioned himself in front of him with a curious look of concern on his face.
"Dad?" He tilted his head precariously as he reached out a tentative hand toward his face. He let out a shaky sigh at the contact and sank into his touch.
"Daddy? Are you alright?" He wondered, his eyes darting between the blue pools in his eyes appraisingly. For only three, he was far more perceptive than he gave him credit for.
"Just fine lad." He swallowed, tampering down any ill thoughts so he could be the person his son needed him to be. Killian ruffled his hair and laughed. "I missed you."
"I missed you too daddy." Liam returned his sentiment as quickly as it was given.
Emma hummed pleasantly against the doorframe, watching with misty eyes at the bond between father and son. However, the moment was short-lived when she heard the grandfather clock chime the hour in the hallway, reminding them of their royal dining obligation.
"Killian—" She opened her mouth to speak but was effectively cut off by her husband's calm demeanor and a promise of, "I've got this."
"Who's ready for supper, aye?" Killian announced gleefully as he gathered the boy into his arms and swept him up into his arms.
The boy's small legs kicked the air in delight as his father hoisted him above his head and draped him over his neck. "Hold on tight and I shall have us there in no time." Killian instructed with a slight bounce in his step causing the boy to burst into a fit of excitement.
Killian wagged his eyebrows at his wife as she rose to a standing position beside him and he leaned in to brush his lips against hers. "Master sailor…" He whispered against her kiss. "Time to weigh anchor and take her out to sea." He supplied her with a snarky smile as he pulled away. "Hope this scallywag has got his sea legs." Killian tapped the boy's leg and pushed himself off the imaginary dock.
She shook her head and smiled to herself as she watched them take off from the nursery and down the long stretch of hallway. Wrapping her hand around the locket wound around her neck, she leaned against the doorway with a wistful sigh listening to the sounds of her son's infectious laughter and the playful banter of her husband echoing down the hallway.
She gave herself a moment to bask in the peaceful bliss that was domestic life in the castle, her mind wandering briefly to the image of life as a family of four. Her thoughts drifted to Liam holding a tiny hand, guiding a chubby cheeked little girl through the gardens as she and Killian beamed with happiness behind them.
Emma's hand fell to her belly, a smile creeping against her lips at the idea of once again finding herself with child. With the roll of her stomach, her expression fell and the scene in her mind dissolved into darkness.
Her brows furrowed at the sensation, immediately reaching for her skirts. Bunching the fabric in her hand, she created an opening large enough for her hand to slip past. She brought her quivering fingers between her thighs before yanking her hand from beyond the curtain of her skirt to inspect her findings. Streaks of crimson colored her fingertips and she grimaced at the sight, a lone tear slipping past her defenses.
"Land ho-" Killian announced as the pair came to a grinding halt in front of the dining table. "Oh-" the sounds of childlike glee died in his throat at the sight of two sets of displeasing eyes glaring back at him. "It appears we've been made, mate." Killian's eyes shifted between the two royals who wore thin smiles.
"Aw. Why? We were just about to make port!" Liam groaned impatiently as he shoved his hands deeper into Killian's scalp.
"Let's not give your grandfather further reason to send me off to the gallows to perish." Killian insisted, adjusting the boy from his shoulders and placing him down on the floor. Killian met the looks of discontent with a sheepish smile. Placing his hands on the boy's small shoulders, he positioned himself behind him as if to use him as a human shield for the onslaught of words he knew were to come.
"Come, Liam." Killian tapped his son and ushered him forward, ignoring the stares bearing down on him as he helped the boy into the seat next to his grandmother.
"There's my handsome grandson." Snow crooned, ruffling the boy's hair, which was nearly identical to his father's.
Killian walked around to the other side of the table, watching the unappreciative scowl form on Liam's face at his grandmother's advances.
"You're half past an hour late." David frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in annoyance for the pirate's blatant disrespect for time.
"My apologies. We were unexpectedly held up." Killian provided dryly as he pulled the seat out from the table and slid himself on it.
"We have accommodated your lifestyle and accepted you as part of the family despite our reservations, all that we ask is that you show a little respect. Both this family and this castle run on a tight schedule. So for as long as you are here, you will do your best to abide by it." David informed him with a firm authoritative voice as he picked up his glass of wine and swirled it around in the palm of his hand.
"Aye, your majesty." Killian begrudgingly agreed with gritted teeth as he began to unfurl his napkin and place it in his lap.
"David, can we not do this in front of the boy?" Snow pleaded as she swept her hand through her grandson's hair as he picked food off his plate with his tiny hands and shoved it between his lips. "I apologize for his behavior Killian, he's been under a lot of stress as of late. But more to his point of timeliness, it is important that our time is utilized properly."
"Aye, your majesty." Killian nodded his head in understanding.
"Where's Emma?" Snow glanced up expectantly toward Killian, who was silently appraising the meal in front of him as she dabbed a napkin into the corner's of her grandson's lips.
"She was—" His voice trailed off at the sound of his wife's unsteady breathing emanating from the double doors.
"Sorry I'm late. There was something I needed to take care of." She apologized dutifully as she smoothed her hands over the pleats of her navy blue silk gown.
"Is everything alright, dear?" Snow asked, following her daughter's advance toward her seat situated next to Killian's.
"Everything's fine." Emma reassured her mother with a thin smile as she placed herself next to her pirate. "Let's just enjoy one another's company and this wonderful meal." She suggested pleasantly to draw the attention away from her.
Sliding the lid off the silver platter she was greeted with fresh turkey, potatoes, and various vegetables that were in season. Grabbing her fork, she moved to spear a few green beans onto it and raise it to her lips. Before she could place it between her lips, she was caught off guard by a firm grasp against her thigh.
"Are you alright?" Killian whispered his concern under his breath, his grave expression evident.
"It's nothing." She said dismissively, but Killian refused to back down until he received a suitable answer to his inquiry. Dropping her fork onto her plate, she collected the napkin and shielded her lips from the rest of the table. "I just began bleeding." She muttered, the disappointment in her voice evident.
"That's great. Glad to hear it." He replied, unfazed by the directness of the admission. Killian wrapped his arm around the back of her chair so he could caress her shoulder gently. He dropped his voice into a low sensual husk, "if you're worried about other more enjoyable activities, you should know by now that I'm never one to shy away from blood."
"I know." She said admittedly, a slight blush forming on her cheeks at his words. "I'm just wondering if maybe we should—"
"When are you going to have another baby?" Snow blurted out, stealing the very question straight from Emma's lips.
Killian paled, swallowing the bile in his throat at the suggestion of reproducing.
"Mother!" Emma whined painfully, her cheeks filling with embarrassment at the brashness of her mother's question.
"Snow! What a forward thing to say!" David berated her from his place at the head of the oversized royal dining table.
"I would have to agree with the king." Killian deadpanned. His eyes bulged from his head as an anxious sweat began to bead his brow. Leaning forward, he seized the goblet of wine in his hand and slid it toward him without missing a beat.
"It really isn't." Snow insisted nonchalantly. "Honestly, Liam is such a joy and you two really do make the most beautiful children." She said in a single breath as she admired the small boy next to her.
"Gods." Killian cursed at his mother in law's explanation and tipped the glass of wine toward his mouth, downing the drink in a single gulp.
Emma flashed her eyes toward her husband, registering the distress in his expression. Closing her eyes momentarily at the recognition of his panic, she allowed the disappointment to overwhelm her.
"You both have a duty to preserve the royal line." Snow reminded them.
"Isn't one more than enough?" Killian muttered under his breath much to Emma's dismay.
"Snow, with everything going on right now, don't you think this isn't the best time to be contemplating such things?" David reprimanded his wife, urging her to reconsider her course of conversation.
"David we have so much to—" Snow's voice faded in and out of Emma's realm of hearing as she sat stoically witnessing everyone insert their opinions about her body and her family. The argued words fell on deaf ears, surrendering their insistence into the void of nothingness inside her. Emma clutched her stomach as the argued words were fired from across the room and tears filled her eyes.
"The last thing we need right now is another heir!" David's voice broke her from her trance.
Emma's forearms hit the table with a thud. "Excuse me." She said, her voice broken and frail as she slid herself from her chair and retreated from the room. She blinked the tears from her eyes as soon as she turned the corner. Taking fleeting footsteps from the dining hall, she placed her forearm against her mouth to muffle the sounds of her sobs.
Hot tears streamed down her face obscuring her vision as she jogged down the hallway toward her chambers. Embers flickered against the stone walls creating a hazy glow in her eyesight as she sniffled and gasped, her lower lip trembling violently. Emma threw herself against the door to her chambers with a horse cry and pried it open.
She slammed the door behind her, weeping as she mindlessly closed the distance between herself and the bed in front of her. Her feet gave out as soon as her knees hit the edge of the bed, her body tumbling out from underneath her to collapse onto the mattress. Her fists curled around the duvet as she buried her head into the rich silk underneath her so that it could capture the sounds of her pained cries.
She wasn't aware of when she had fallen asleep but was awoken to the sound of the door to her chambers shutting. Glancing over to the hearth, she could just make out the last remaining burning flames from the fire fading into ash.
"Emma? Love?" Killian's gravelly voice filled the room.
Emma didn't move to acknowledge his presence but felt the dip of the mattress behind her as he sat himself upon it.
"You can't ignore me forever, love." Killian exhaled longingly. "How easily you forget how drawn to one another we are. I tried to ignore you once and failed miserably. It is a lost cause to try." He recalled wistfully, a faint laugh upon his lips at the memory of his stubbornness.
"It's a fool's errand, love. Just talk to me." He encouraged by placing his hand along her back.
Groaning, Emma flipped herself onto her side and placed her hands underneath her head to meet his concerned stare. "Liam?" Emma wondered softly.
"It took some effort but the lad is asleep." He affirmed in a reassuring tone.
With both hands placed firmly on the mattress, she lifted herself up until she was near level with him. Her breathing hitched in her throat as her eyes locked on his, green sinking into his blue desperately. Canting her head to the side, she closed the distance between them and captured his lips with hers.
Killian gasped hungerly into her mouth, her lips giving him chase as he swept his tongue over her bottom lip silently pleading for admittance. She washed over his senses, overwhelming him with her sweet fragrance and her alluring taste on his tongue. It had been far too long since had tasted her skin on his lips and drowned himself inside her. The longing had created a frenzied craving — an unabashed longing that needed to be sated.
"Please." She whined into his mouth, her lips dragging against his as she begged him to fill the ache inside her. "Please, Killian. I need you." She whispered huskily against his lips as she wound her hands into the collar of his black suede waistcoat. "I need you, Killian. Make me whole."
"Gods I love you." He groaned huskily as he attached his lips to hers once more. Placing his hands between their heaving bodies, he captured the fabric of her bodice between his fingers and felt it give way underneath the force of his touch.
Emma gasped sharply, the sound losing its way down his throat as he feverishly broke through the silk prison that kept her from his view. Attacking his lips ravenously, she slipped her hands from his collar to aid in his removal of her clothing. Pressing her lips tightly to his, she managed to free herself from her sleeves.
Once free of the obstruction, Killian dragged the bodice of the dress down the length of her body until he met resistance. Releasing a growl of frustration, he tugged at it helplessly for her body to relinquish her to him. "Please. Need to feel you bare against me." He begged, his nose brushing against hers as his lips sought out hers.
"Please." Emma whined in agreement, her impatience rivaling his own.
Killian away from her momentarily, just long enough to retrieve the dagger hidden in his boot. Producing the knife, he watched with hooded eyes as she instinctually arched toward him. Sliding his arm across her back to hold her steady, he locked onto her penetrating gaze.
Without breaking their eye contact, Emma seized his wrist and guided his bladed hand toward her chest.
His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her obliging him. The passion and fire burning in her eyes drew him in with an elaborate dance, inviting him in. There was no hesitation in her eyes as she wordlessly positioned his blade at the dip of her corset. He eyed the steady rise and fall of the tops of her breasts that spilled out from the corset as she breathed in anticipation.
"My impatience has no bounds when it comes to you." Killian lamented as he made the first impression of the blade into the fabric. The dagger inched its way down the length of her body, leaving her dress a tattered mess in its wake. The blade paused midway down her skirt and Killian retracted it from its position, opting to deliver the final blow to the gown himself.
Grasping the torn ends in his fists, he ripped the remaining fabric from her body letting the pieces billow out around her leaving her in her petticoat and the rest of her skirts. With a painful slowness that seemed to verge on timeless, he lowered her to the bed and inspected the work that still required his attention.
"These garments are going to be the death of me." He husked lowly, chucking the blade to the mattress so that he could reposition himself on the bed. Resting on his knees, he placed himself beside her and began to work the fastenings of his waistcoat. One by one the gold fastenings gave way and he peeled back the layer of clothing. He tossed the garment to the floor and turned his attention to the white shirt he had donned for dinner — the only unassuming part of his attire that revealed his more devious nature.
Emma let out a contented sigh as he pulled the shirt from his body, revealing the muscular planes of his chest and covered in dark curls that had laid underneath the thin fabric. Reaching out a tentative hand to stroke the silky nest of curls covering the expanse of his chest, she was immediately taken aback by the insistence of his hands as he captured hers and thrust them over her head.
"On your stomach, love." He instructed in an emotionless tone that sought to undo her right then and there.
She did as he bid her, turning so that she faced the bed. She moaned as she felt the weight of him against her lower back as he moved to straddle her. She shivered as she felt the palm of his hand trail down her spine, the hilt of the weapon dragging along behind it until it stopped at her waist.
At her waist were numerous bindings that existed only to vex him. With a growl, he burrowed the blade into the laces, snapping them one after the other. The skirts split from her waist, giving him enough room to rid them from her person.
He stood from the bed and gathered the tangled mess of her skirts. With a firm pull they slipped out from underneath her and pooled to the floor. He left her unattended a moment more to remove the last vestiges of his own clothing before returning himself to the bed.
Killian sank down beside her, sweeping the curtain of her blonde hair over her shoulder to grant him access to the curves of her back. Dropping his head to her upper back, he trailed his lips down her spine, branding his kiss into her skin as he went.
"Killian." She whined, writhing underneath him.
With a possessive growl, Killian took her in his arms and in one swift motion flipped her onto her back. He met her heated stare, his eyes leaving hers to admire every bare inch of her. The temptation to mark every inch of her skin was almost too much. She looked like a blank canvas waiting for him to sculpt into a masterpiece. She deserved to be worshiped under his touch, praised with his tongue, and adored with his lips. However, his indulgence of her body was fleeting and required immediate attention.
"Killian." Emma whimpered, the sound so pure and immaculate in its want for him that he shuddered at the symphony it created in his ears. Her lithe hands trailed down the contours of his muscular shoulders and down the length of his arms as if to claw him into submission. The sensation she created with her fingertips was maddening and just enough to justify his next course of action.
Slipping between her thighs, he covered her body with his — a hum of approval leaving his lips upon finally getting the skin to skin contact he longed for. "It's been too long, my love." He mused, brushing his nose along her jaw as he gave a teasing thrust of his hips that nearly unraveled her.
"Please. Please. Gods, Killian, please." She begged for his pleasurable intervention. She ground against the rigid flesh of his cock, muttering curses under her breath for his unhurried motions against her. The frustration on her furrowed brow accompanied by the desperate pleas singing from her lips were intoxicating as he continued to taunt her with his body and mercilessly prolong her misery.
Grasping her inner thigh, he hoisted her leg over his lower back and plunged forward, sinking down into her warm depths until he was fully seated inside her.
Emma cried out, her nails digging into the hard planes of his back as she welcomed him inside her. Tears pricked her eyes at the feeling of him throbbing inside her, his cock gliding against her innermost walls lazily, his body unwilling to be parted from her.
Killian's mouth parted in a sharp gasp of ecstasy at the feeling of finally being joined with her, consumed by the tantalizing sensation of her firmly wrapped around him. His entire body went rigid, his skin prickling with energy while his mind was imprisoned in a state of pure delirium.
"Killian—" She whined, rutting her hips against his in an attempt to get him to move.
Despite her pleas, he remained in a fixed position, refusing to move and leave her warm, inviting depths for even the briefest moment. The wait was agonizing, a silent torture that swore allegiance to a delayed gratification.
Sensing his resolve to prolong their reacquaintance, Emma opened her mouth to protest his lack of action but her defiance was met with resistance in the form of his lips on hers. The pirate caressed her lips with his own, swallowing her mewls of frustration at his reluctance to finish the cruel game he had started.
She hummed at the touch of his fingertips tracing a path against the skin of her thigh, where he held her tightly against him. Her libido roared with impatience, her fingernails raking against his back as his mouth slanted over hers in a vigorous dance.
With a possessive growl, Killian seized the hands ravaging his back and thrust them above her head. She whined hysterically into his mouth, rolling her hips eagerly in search of friction, which he would not allow. It had been far too long and this was something he intended to savor.
He was a masochist of his own pleasure, getting off on seeing how long he could last before completely losing himself inside her. There was something depraved in the way he goaded her pleasure over her, an amusement for keeping her movements at bay.
"Killian," she whimpered, dragging her lips from his. "I can't bear it any longer. I need you. Please. Let me feel you," she implored, tears pricking her eyes.
An alluring smirk formed across his lips at her desperate campaign for pleasure. "I'm in no rush to see this end," he punctuated the last word with a twist of his hips, causing her to buck against him. "In fact, I have every intention of seeing you come undone underneath me before I manage a single thrust," he swore, drawing his hand down to where they were joined to illustrate his point.
Elation rolled through her at the relief at the meticulous touch of his fingers against her swollen flesh, his fingertips moving in slow, methodical circles until she was a quivering mess below him. He had to bite back the moan of pleasure that threatened to tear itself from his throat at the sensation of her walls trembling around him.
She was on the brink of pleasure, the feel of him pulsing inside her as she gripped him tightly accompanied by the steady movements at the apex of her thighs almost too much to take. With another stroke of his fingers against her, she was squirming, her body undulating underneath him and squeezing him relentlessly.
"That's it," he encouraged dutifully, smiling in amusement as she cried out. He watched, enthralled, as she fell apart underneath the intensity of his heated stare. "You feel so good around me," he praised as he worked her through her high, his fingers not letting up on the exacting rhythm he put into place.
"Come on love," he continued to rub her into submission, her hips straining against his for more contact. "I want to feel you come around me again," he all but commanded as he circled his thumb against the sensitive flesh of her clit.
The features in his face creased as she clamped down around him, trying to fight the urge to thrust his hips back and claim her. "Come for me darling," he winced painfully as he brought about her pleasure, her walls rippling around him and threatening to undo him.
His fingers resumed their ministrations of her sensitive flesh, thrusting his palm to meet her every movement against him. "You haven't the slightest idea what you do to me, love," he continued his assault, letting her whimpers of pleasure invade his senses and spur his actions against her.
Killian gritted his teeth as she bared down around him, her impending climax testing his resolve.
"Killian," she cried out, cupping his face in her hands. "Please. I need you," she pleaded, her eyes boring into his as she tried to starve off her pleasure.
"You're almost there, love," he assessed, cherishing the look of utter devotion in her eyes. "Give me what I want and I shall give you what you want," he vowed, admiring the way she bucked against his fingers.
Emma screamed her release, jerking against him as he used her orgasm to propel himself back only to slam back into her. He repeated the action, burying himself inside her, fucking her through her pleasure. Pumping his hips in time with her resolution, he could feel the pressure building up inside him, feel her encasing him with every thrust.
The pleasure was blinding, her entire body divesting the orgasm from him until he was deliciously spent. Collapsing on top of Emma's heaving body, Killian panted his relief. His head found a home in the crook of her neck, her fingers carding through his sweaty hair as they basked in the afterglow of their coupling.
Killian wasn't even aware he had passed out until he was roused from sleep by a soft knock at the door. The sound of another knock emanated from the door, and Emma stirred next to him, turning onto her side with a muffled groan.
"I've got it love. Sleep," he said, bending down to kiss her forehead as she slumbered. Tossing the covers from his body, Killian swept his legs over the edge of the bed and yawned loudly, stretching his limbs to wake himself.
The pirate had always been a light sleeper. Years at the beck and call of the ocean would do that to a man. Life inside the palace had only made his slumbers more fitful, unable to find peace away from the sea. He wished he could say the late night rendezvous were atypical of castle living, but they proved to be a regular occurrence since Liam was born.
There was another knock and Killian grumbled at the sound. "Just a moment," he told the person on the other side of the door. Pulling himself from bed, he surveyed the room for the robe he kept close by on evenings such as these.
Killian breathed a sigh of recognition when his fingers closed around the familiar thick fabric of his robe. He seized the offending article of clothing and threw it over his bare shoulders before securing the belt around his waist. Groggily he trudged toward the door and threw it open to reveal an unlikely visitor.
"Your highness," Killian acknowledged with a gruff nod of his head. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" He asked curiously, catching the lantern's flame reflected in the king's eyes.
"I need your help," David said gravely, his voice tinged with fear as he swallowed his pride to turn to the last person on the planet he'd ever want help from.