So I was trying to work on Between Sea and Sky but I got slammed with the flu and in my loopy feverish haze this came at me instead, the idea put into my head by artielu on tumblr, basically it involves Killian and Emma's competitive streaks in the bedroom. You know once they got over that HOLY SHIT WE SLEPT TOGETHER phase...eventually each trying to outdo the other, keeping a mental tally of orgasms and who came first in their heads.
Sex, and dirty talk, and sex, and sex…and…
Apologies in advance…
Also, again, I have the flu…so consider that an excuse for anything that follows... ;)
Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT
Please review!
He was a sneaky bastard.
Lower lip caught firmly between her teeth, Emma bit down on it hard, trying to concentrate on the burn and pinch as Killian shifted above her, smirking down at her as he began to move once again—a little harder, a little faster—his careful and knowing strokes drawing an infuriating moan from her throat as her legs, hoisted over his shoulders, quivered traitorously against him. She was completely exposed like this, bared before him, nearly entirely at his mercy.
And he knew it.
Damn him he knew it.
His lips quirking upwards as his eyes met hers with a hungry and somewhat defiant gleam, his hips rocked into her harder, his cock pushing deeper—almost too deep—as his good hand shifted down between them, fingers dancing over her clit.
"Dammit." She breathed the word out, a spark of pleasure pulsing in her core, her head tilting upwards, eyes fluttering closed before snapping back open stubbornly.
She wouldn't give in.
They hadn't been sleeping together very long. She still hadn't a fucking clue what the hell they were—friends with benefits, lovers, something more—but somehow, along the way, after an embarrassingly quick first time on the heels of a terrifyingly slow second time; their competitive streaks had been discovered and duly noted, making their presence known somewhere in the middle of their third time together.
He had started it…
Of course he'd started it.
It had happened suddenly, almost shockingly, his eyes had deepened a darker shade of blue, a defiant and challenging glimmer shining within them as he had increased his pace abruptly; fucking her up into the wall he had her pinned against more relentlessly—his thrusts hard and unforgiving. And as he had taken her by surprise, her mind struggling to keep up with the sudden change, his grunts had become louder and more broken, his words dirtier and more encouraging as her cries built in their intensity and he refused to let up, her desperate and infuriating pleading seemingly driving him on. When she had screamed out her climax, cursing him to the darkest corner of hell and digging her nails into his shoulders, drawing blood and reveling in the sight, his shout of triumph had only been shadowed by his own impending release—the smirk on his face refusing to fade for hours after.
Since then, it had become somewhat of a silent competition between them.
One she wasn't exactly proud of but acknowledged no less—the game too addicting to give up.
Just the other day she had woken him up in the middle of the night, her lips closing around his half-hard cock, licking, and humming in an effort to get him to come; his sluggish and sleepy attempts at pulling her up, needing to be buried inside of her, falling on deaf ears as she had continued to determinedly suck him, wanting to get him off with her mouth only—her tongue flicking under his balls, her teeth scraping him lightly. When he had finally let himself go, spilling into her mouth, her name, a broken sound, tumbling from his lips, her victorious moan had echoed throughout the room, silencing his muffled half-choked curse.
Payback had come sooner than she had expected…
The very next day when she had been trying to enjoy a few quiet minutes alone, she had found herself quite suddenly bent over her desk, her anger just barely masked by her desire as he had pumped busy and knowing fingers in and out of her, ignoring her request that he just get it over with and take her then and there, instead urging her to come for him just like that—pants zipped down and just barely pulled past her hips, his dark words about how she should pretend it was his cock instead of his fingers, ringing in her ears. It had been embarrassing and somewhat impressive how fast she had come, how little he actually had to do to her before she was slapping the palms of her hands against the smooth surface of the table and riding out wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure.
So now, now, as he fucked her, legs still hitched over his shoulders, eyes burning into hers, her orgasm slowly building and threatening to consume her, she tried to keep her focus, wanting to prove to him that he didn't have the upper hand. And for a moment, as he pushed in deeper, hitting her in a spot that had her toes curling and a curse flying from her mouth, she considered trying to get out of the position, wondering if she could perhaps lock her legs around him and manage to flip them over—the far-reaching thought quickly flying out of her head as the possibility of snapping his neck in the process had her cringing internally.
It was such a pretty neck after all…
"Emma, love…" his voice practically purred the words, the sound bringing her attention back to him.
Bad idea.
"I can feel you, you're getting wetter…trembling…just let yourself go darling."
Jaw clenching, resolve strengthening, she closed her eyes for a moment, gritting her teeth tighter together as he changed his angle ever so slightly, his thrusts more shallow now, teasing her, taunting her, before sinking in deep once again—the feeling of being stretched wide around him nearly undoing her then and there.
Bastard.
Two could play at this game.
If she was physically at a disadvantage then she'd just have to rely on her feminine wiles.
And if there was one thing she'd learned from her various one-night-stands and run ins with men in general it was that not a single damned one of them could resist a little dirty talk during sex.
And she knew, from their handful of times together, that Killian Jones was no exception.
"Oh fuck!" Her words rang out suddenly, his actions faltering slightly with the husky and needy sound. "I can't…I…Jesus Christ…right there…so, so good…ohhhhh oh God…" digging her nails into the sheets, her head thrashed slightly from side to side with her moaned words—the action not entirely planned as he continued to take her somewhat relentlessly, driving in deep. "Fuck…you feel so big like this..so…ohhhhh God…I can't…it-it almost hurts…Killian..." she whispered softly, whimpering for effect, hanging onto his name, her eyes fluttering open and gaze finding his, the blue there darker than before, a rigidness tightening his shoulders as a thin line of sweat broke out over his brow. "Harder…make it hurt…I want it to hurt." Her words were breathy, her chest heaving with them as she arched towards him suddenly, legs sliding off his shoulders fractionally as his cock continued to move steadily inside of her, pulling out before pushing back in—his actions a little sloppier lacking their previous finesse. And as she bit her lip at the sensation, the tiny sparks of heat that lit within her causing her to shudder, she made a show of running her tongue across her lips, breathing out heavily after, a tiny gasp tumbling out as her mouth parted open slightly.
His answering grunt was low, his eyes narrowing and his fingers nearly bruising as he dug them punishingly into her skin.
He was close.
Gaze flitting down between them, she bit back a moan, her walls fluttering around him as she saw his hard and throbbing length disappear into her again and again; the sounds of their bodies coming together—skin slapping against skin, panting breaths and muffled grunts—filtering to her ears "God—God I love watching you fuck me."
She heard him swear above her, his voice harsh and gruff as he punished her once more with another hard and almost too deep thrust.
He was losing control.
"Watch. I want to see you watch." She sucked in a breath as his good hand smacked her smartly in the place where her hip and ass met—a warning—her eyes narrowing and her pulse leaping as her body registered the burn and sting. Snaking her hands up his arms, raking her nails over his skin, she arched towards him once, offering her body to him and reveling in the slight change in angle, as they continued to rock into each other mercilessly. "Killian…I know you like to. Don't you? Watching your cock stretch and fill me…look down…look how wet I am…look how hot you've made me."
"Bloody fucking hell Emma." he sounded like a desperate and broken man, his eyes flashing down to watch as he moved in and out of her, his features tightening as she made a mewling sound under her breath, her hips moving sinuously as she panted out his name, her little game backfiring slightly as she realized she was simultaneously working herself up and getting even more turned on.
"Fuck, I-I want to feel you come. I want to feel it deep inside me, all over, dripping down my ass…I want..oh!" her words cut off as he began to pound into her faster, his good hand reaching down to cover her mouth, clearly intent on muffling her words as something slightly dark and a little dangerous overtook him. Curses flying from his lips, body slick with sweat, he called her filthy, delicious, and horrible things—things that were slightly degrading and in no way should have had her teeth finding the inside of her cheek and biting down hard to keep the desperate scream that had lodged itself in her throat from rippling up and echoing throughout the room.
And knowing she was teetering on the edge, aware that she was losing all of her precious composure, she cursed herself for being so weak; trying to remember the mental tally she was keeping, curious before this round had started, who had been winning the fucked up and slightly twisted game.
And goddammit, she couldn't be the one to come first…not after the last time…not when she was so close to getting him to lose his control.
But as the pressure began to build fast, and her hands dropped from his arms to grip the bed beneath her, she was pretty sure she was fighting a losing battle.
And a tiny voice in her head asked if that was really such a bad thing.
He fucked her harder, slamming her into the mattress, and bringing her back to reality as he grunted out her name, making it sound sexier and dirtier than she'd ever heard it sound before. Fucking accent. Her legs beginning to burn from their upright position, his hand moved away from her mouth abruptly, only to have his fingers dancing back over it to urge her lips apart, his eyes glazing over as she opened greedily and took his index finger into her mouth, sucking on it hard.
"That's a good girl, suck it like you would my cock…I know you like being on your knees for me darling, almost as much as you like having me fill your tight wet cunt."
So, apparently, the dirty talk worked both ways.
Her walls clenching tightly, she heard him breathe in sharply but unable to care anymore, slightly unsure why she'd been holding back in the first place—competitive streaks and challenging blue eyes be damned—she canted herself upwards to meet his thrusts, dragged her teeth over his finger, and let out a strangled cry as she allowed the sensations he was forcing upon her to consume her entirely, just barely noting his broken and pained shout as a flood of nearly unbearable heat washed over her and she gripped him tight, coming hard and fast around him.
So good.
So fucking good.
Pulling her mouth away from his finger, shivering as he placed his hand at the base of her throat and applied light pressure, she continued to ride out her release; her body trembling, her legs aching, and her mind going hazy and numb as she felt something hot and wet pulsing inside of her before spreading slowly—his actions halting briefly before he began to rut against her lightly. And she wondered for a moment, amidst the sparks that lit her body, the roaring in her ears, and the slew of erotic images in her head, how he could leave her so thoroughly satisfied but still wanting more.
Damn him.
When finally, finally, the waves of pleasure had subsided and her body was left a limp and trembling mess, her skin tingling and her mind still fogged and buzzing, she opened her eyes, unsure when she had closed them in the first place, to find him pulling back from her slowly, a slightly dazed expression on his face as he allowed her to remove and lower her legs from his shoulders.
Good God, she didn't think it would ever get old.
Challenging him.
Being with him.
And with the slightly unexpected thought, she felt the tiny and familiar pinpricks of fear that always showed up and threatened to rear their ugly little heads whenever she found herself considering him…them…begin to bombard her somewhat mercilessly.
No.
Later.
Later she'd allow herself to freak out about their intimate, slightly casual, and undefined relationship.
Now, now, she was going to try to figure out how to move again without wincing—her limbs on fire, everything feeling slightly weighted.
"Fuck me." she whispered softly, her legs protesting their every movement as she stretched them a bit, eyes flickering to him as he huffed out a light chuckle from where he was sitting back on the bed.
"I believe, sweetheart, that I just did that…quite thoroughly might I add."
Frowning, she brought a shaky hand to her hair, running trembling fingers through the tangled mess slowly before hoisting herself up on her elbows. Eyes drifting upwards to study him curiously, she watched as he pushed himself off the bed, standing before her quite obviously satisfied and completely unabashedly naked—his muscular and scarred body a sight to behold.
"Like what you see?"
"I-I…shut-up."
"Ahhhhh and there she is…my witty Swan in all of her clever glory."
Ignoring her mumbled retort…that was really nothing more than a muttered ass under her breath…he moved around the room; carelessly throwing on his clothes as he hurriedly got dressed, a twinge in her stomach and a frown tugging at her lips hinting at her disappointment as nearly every taut and tight inch of him was covered with black and leather. When he was finished, and it dawned on her that she had watched him almost unblinkingly the entire time, he shot her a fast, almost wicked smirk before shuffling a few feet closer to her, his small grin melting into a soft smile as he stopped next to the bed, his smugness fading away momentarily as he brought his good hand down to cup her chin, tilting it upwards and forcing her to look at him. "I've got some business to attend to at the docks."
"Sounds official."
He chuckled at that, merely raising a dark brow and cocking his head to the side. "Will I see you tonight?"
Yes!
Anxiously disregarding the voice that screamed the answer in her head, she shrugged her shoulders somewhat demurely, eyes fluttering down to avoid his stare as her heart began to beat rapidly against her chest—her brain chastising her harshly as it reminded her that only minutes ago they had been locked in a game of who could make who come first, his inquiring about her evening plans was probably the last thing that should have her blushing. But even so, begrudgingly agreeing with the harsh voices in her head, she felt a telling and slightly embarrassing warmth sweep across her cheeks, her fingers curling into the blankets beneath her as she considered his question.
Henry was staying with Regina. She had literally nothing to do later, and really, deep down, she knew there was no way she wouldn't see him…wouldn't go to him…was all too aware that there was no possible way she could resist him—the thought hadn't really even occurred to her in the first place. And that, right there, scared the hell out of her…
And also, somewhat surprisingly, absolutely thrilled her.
"I've got things…" she trailed off as her voice caught and hitched with the beginnings of her lie, her tongue running over her teeth lightly, as she reconsidered her words. "Maybe…later…if you don't mind waiting because there are things…I mean I guess..if—if you're lucky I'll stop by." she tried to throw in the last bit to lighten the mood, aware that her suddenly breathy tone had given away her obvious anxiety…annoyed that she could turn a fun and light afternoon of mindless fucking into something a bit more meaningful and terrifying.
Way to go Swan.
Fingers holding onto her chin a moment longer, his thumb brushed over her lower lip lightly, the touch causing her breath to come in short in anticipation as he lowered his forehead to hers, breath washing hot over her lips and noses just barely touching.
"I'm a very patient man darling."
And without saying another word, without giving her a chance to ruin the moment and shoot back a smart retort, he kissed her lightly, almost chastely, his hand moving to her head to give a gentle tug on her hair before pulling back, the loss of contact drawing a soft whimper from her lips, the sound obviously pleasing him as his fingers lingered a moment longer before he released her completely. And turning from her and heading towards the door, she watched as he walked away, her stomach a mess of knots as he tossed her a quick smile and a wink before disappearing out into the hallway and leaving her alone.
And good God she was screwed.
Leaning back against the pillows, everything still sore, her mind still slow, and her pulse still racing, she ran trembling hands down her body as images flashed before her eyes of their time together—the way he had taken her so thoroughly, fucked her so completely—taunting her cruelly. And as she felt her thighs clench together slightly with the memory, surprised by how just the thought of him fucking her had managed to arouse her once again—Jesus she was insatiable—she drew her hands down to where she was suddenly wet and hot and still covered in the dried evidence of being with him.
Teasingly, experimentally, she ran a finger down her slit, looking towards the door as she did—her eyes widening slowly as she thought about their tentatively promised date for later that night and the still ongoing and unspoken competition that existed between them. And pushing her worrying thoughts and slightly frustrating fears aside—there would be time for that later—she slid a finger home, a tiny sigh of relief escaping her as she thought about what his reaction would be if he happened to stumble upon her now—her fingers buried deep inside of herself, his name tumbling from her lips. Shifting her angle, ignoring the ache that still lingered between her thighs, and concentrating on the growing need that steadily began to build within her once again, she bit back a victorious smile and closed her eyes. And using the sudden and clear as day fantasy of laying in his bed, writhing, panting, moaning, and fucking herself while he looked on as a guide, she carefully began to plot her next move in their twisted little game.
The poor bastard wouldn't know what hit him.
REVIEW?!
Also I don't plan on continuing. Just imagine the game keeps on going...indefinitely... ;)