Canon-compliant post 6×07 smut (at least I’m pretty sure it’s canon compliant? I never watched s6.) Later that night, Emma’s hand won’t stop shaking. A bit of praise kink. My second entry for @cscocktoberfest (Only a little bit late this time! Yay!) ~4.7k words. No major trigger warnings apply.
When they leave the Charming’s apartment that night, it’s not without copious complaining beforehand. Emma hadn’t wanted to leave the apartment where her father lay comatose in bed as Snow cuddled and tried to soothe a baby Neal whose crying had picked up when he realized his father wouldn’t respond to the pokes to the chest.
(Killian realized with a pang that it was a game Dave played with his son. Neal poking him would provoke a reaction, dramatic and giggle-inducing, that could entertain Neal for hours on end.)
(Now he just slept on, dead to the world.)
(All around, not a particularly banner day in Storybrooke.)
Emma sits
at her vanity in her nightgown staring blankly at her reflection while her Aunt
Ruby brushes her hair. Two nights have past since the Royal Guard came aboard
the Jolly trying to arrest Killian for a crime he didn’t commit, two night
since she was forced to come up on deck and reveal herself as the Crown
Princess, two nights since her Uncle Graham, head of the knights and her
personal bodyguard showed up and insisted to know why she was there, two nights
since Killian agreed to be taken to the dungeon.
The streets of New Orleans were light up like a kaleidoscope, beaded necklaces flashing and refracting a million different colors, blinding her. Her whole world is spinning just a little, the buzz of the alcohol thrumming through her veins, lending a pleasant tint to everything happening. Hot bodies press against her as she tugs her friend over to another bar, music seeping out from under the door, a woman with tattoos and tartan skirts and clanging jewelry ushering them inside.
The walls are a deep red, almost black in the dim light. The pulse of the music crawls up from the soles of her feet and into her heart, bouncing in her bones and making them ache needly. Emma pushes her way to the bar, orders a whiskey sour and downs it in a few seconds, catching the eye of the man next to her still trying to get the barkeeps attention. She looks at him and finds herself caught in eyes as blue as the hottest part of a flame framed by thick, dark lashes. She smiles a little sloppily and he smiles back, dimples popping in his stubbled cheeks.
“I’m Killian,” he shouts over the thrum of the music, leaning ever so slightly closer to her on the bar. Emma slides her hand up his forearm, fingers curling around his bicep, squeezing softly then grazing her nails back down. Her hair falls in golden waves around them as she brings her lips up to his ear – the spark of a burgundy earring – and whispers her name back to him. He shivers and she grins wolfishly.
First off, a HUGE thank you to @initiala for putting together this dream event. I mean 100 smutty contributions in a thirty day period, I can’t even keep up with posts on @cscocktoberfest. Next, thanks to my girl @xhookswenchx for providing me a setting for my story with this post of her travel experience, and letting me build upon it for Emma’s travel experience. And last, all the love and appreciation for @hookedonapirate for hooking me up with some last minute beta services!
Emma is done, she needs a change. With a little money, a lot of nerve, and nary a plan, she purchases a train ticket back home. When she runs into a sexy Brit heading in the same direction, she realizes she needs a little more than just a change of pace, she needs to get laid. Smut ya’ll, with a little bit of story line to go along. Written for the 2018 CS Cocktober Event. (Disclaimer – as always, I put a cut line!)
To help @cscocktoberfest reach its goal of 100 smutty pieces in a month, I’ve thrown together this little follow-up to A Dream Together, which was what I had originally planned to submit for it. This picks up just where the other left off.
Summary: After realising that the dreams he’s been having about Emma were both real and shared, and that she is in danger, Killian shows up at her door in New York. She doesn’t recognise him… except his eyes, from her dreams. The kiss she lays on him returns her memories, but what happens next, and how do they deal with the reality of what they’ve been dreaming?
(Canon Divergent AU, set during the Missing Year.)
Emma pulled back with a gasp, breaking the kiss. Waves of memories came flooding back, crashing over her, swirling wildly through her mind. She’d given Henry up… he’d found her, brought her to Storybrooke… the curse… her parents… the beanstalk… Hook… Neal’s return… Neverland… Hook… the Echo Caves… Hook… rescuing Henry… Pan’s curse… the town line… Hook…
Her eyes flew open, meeting his anxious gaze. “Hook…” she whispered, but no, the name felt wrong on her lips. “Killian.”
His smile was radiant with relief and love. “Emma,” he breathed, “You remember.”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” she replied, still in a daze, and when he pulled her into his arms she didn’t resist, wrapping her own around him under his coat and absorbing the comfort of his solid, warm presence, smiling a little as he nuzzled her hair.
He’s got a real thing for my hair. She remembered that too, from the dreams.
Summary: Who knew a game of Dungeons and Dragons would lead to some late night fun on the rooftop?
AN: The conclusion of my @cscocktoberfest submission. Posting a little late because I was in NJ for the OUaT convention today, but it is still technically the 27th… on the west coast.
This is completely unbeta’d, so all the excess commas, tense switches, and grammatical chaos are my own. I will go back and do a more thorough edit of this soon to remove some of that, I promise.
Emma
reached up and turned his face back toward hers.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said a
moment before she leaned forward and kissed him.
Killian let out a small groan
before eagerly returning her kiss. His
stubble rubbed against her cheeks, which was an unfamiliar but not unpleasant
feeling. She ran her hand along his neck
and into his hair. This elicited another
low groan, which sent a shiver down Emma’s spine.
Spurred on by his reaction, Emma
scooted forward until her ass was resting against his leg. Closer now, she trailed her other hand up Killian’s
front until she was able to caress the chest hair constantly left exposed by
his habit of leaving the top few buttons of his shirts undone.
The hand that had been resting on
her hip crept upward and Killian’s fingers dipped below the hemline of her top
to rest on the small of her back. His
other hand made its way into her hair and with a little tug, tilted Emma’s head
upward.
Killian frowns and squints his eyes a little against
the low, early autumnal sun, but no, his ears haven’t deceived him:
there’s his wife casually leaning against the hood of her yellow bug,
parked on its usual spot right in front of the sheriff’s station.
“What are you doing here, Swan?” he asks and
approaches her with a smile. “Weren’t you supposed to assist your
mother with the preparations for your brother’s birthday
celebrations?”
“Yeah, I did, until she said we were done.” Emma
shrugs and pushes away from the car to greet him. “Maybe I wasn’t
very useful.”
“I can imagine,” he comments in an amused voice
and kisses her smiling mouth. “Admit it, you only used that as an
excuse for not having to help with the record filing.”
“Hey!” She whacks his arm playfully and chuckles
as she opens the driver’s door while Killian elegantly folds himself
into the passenger seat. But then she admits a little sheepishly,
“Well, I wouldn’t have been useful with that either.”
He tilts his head. “I knew it!” While fastening
his seat belt, he asks, “So, do you want to pick up something for
dinner?”
She nods and starts the engine. “Later. First, I
was thinking we could drive a bit to the outskirts and give you some
driving lessons.”
“Driving lessons?” Killian isn’t thrilled, to
say the least. He’s used to riding in the passenger seat of Emma’s
beloved bug by now, but trying his own hand at its helm? He doubts
that such an endeavor would end well. Even though he’s a fast
learner, he’s still in the process of getting used to driving a car,
and he hasn’t tried any other vehicle than David’s truck so far. “No
offense, Swan,” he says carefully, “but I think your father’s car
is much more suitable for me.”
She grins cheekily and challenges, “What, afraid
you can’t handle this one?”
He throws her an indignant look. “The vessel I’m
inept to captain has yet to be built.”
cshappybeginning 