Summary: Emma just wants to take a shower and wash the tension of the day away. By herself. But of course, Killian can’t have that—not when he’s the one who could be relieving her stress. This is a recipe for disaster.
A/N: So @distant-rose has always longed for a shower fic wherein the actual hazards of shower sex are addressed, so this is my attempt to fill that void (and it seemed like it fit the bill of @cscocktoberfest). It ended up a bit more feelz-y than slapstick, but hopefully it’s close to what you’re after! [And thank you to @optomisticgirl for looking it over!!!]
There was only one way to end a long, tiring day like today. Well, there were probably a couple, but Emma had settled on the one that involved the fewest number of people.
The shower stream was falling wet and hot around her, soothing her sore muscles and clearing her mind. She ran her hands through her hair, over her face, and continued to trail them down her body until she got to the other part that needed a release of its own, and went about taking care of that as well.
She was so lost in her self-ministrations, starting to fall apart to the press of her fingers against her clit and elsewhere, that she didn’t notice the door to the bathroom open, or the brush of cold air when the shower curtain briefly parted.
It wasn’t until the sweaty, grimy body hugged her from behind that she was pulled out of her brief reverie.
“Having all the fun without me, love?” Killian murmured in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist and settled his chin on her shoulder.
Emma jumped at the contact. “Killian!” she immediately complained, arching away from him as much as possible and and nearly scratching herself in the process. “What the hell? I was trying to get clean!”
“You don’t honestly expect me to believe that; do you, darling?” he purred, holding onto her even tighter. “What with your hands in your—”
“Ugh!” She grabbed his forearms and pried them apart, stumbling forward as she broke out of his embrace. “Why are you so gross?”
“Me?” He feigned innocence as he stepped into the falling water. “Don’t be such a prude, love, especially when you were the one—”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she huffed, putting her hands on her hips. The way the water ran over his chest, pooling in his collarbones and then falling down the planes of his pectorals, only made her more keenly aware of the fact that she’d been interrupted. “Why are you covered in dirt?”
My name is Carmina, I'm 38 years old, and I live in Mexico city. Captain Swan, Emma Swan, Killian Jones/Captain Hook and The Charming Family stan blog.
I live a Jennifer Morrison and Colin O’Donoghue appreciation life. Not a spoiler free blog.
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