saviorcomplexing | open rp post ;

( the problem with a hook for a hand is that rushed undressing never tends to end well for his shirt. there's possibly a hint of a rip as Emma relieves him of it, but if anything it makes the dirty bastard rumble a sound of content. hold him at knifepoint, ruin his clothes, whatever, he's into it.

he's a hand short when it comes to stripping a savior, but he refuses to use that as an excuse to keep her clothes on. he manages a breathless laugh at her half-assed remark, and the smirk on his face indicates he's definitely taking it as a compliment, he'll let her skate by on pretending it's about the furniture. )

Glad you approve, ( and his voice is a little rusty, now, when he tugs her ever-present leather jacket from her shoulders and whisks it callously to the floor. before she can protest her shirt is going over her head after, and he leaves it over her eyes to press his mouth to the curve of her breast instead. she can finish with that shirt of hers, right? he's got other things on his mind. )

[No, she can't actually finish the shirt on her own, because he distracts her with that mouth of his on her breast and Emma ends up throwing her head back and arching into it, her arms trapped somewhere above her head in her shirt. For a few seconds at least, and a noise that sounds an awful lot like a moan and then several things happen at once.

The shirt is wrestled off and thrown to the side. Her legs tighten around him. One hand grabs him by the hair and pulls his mouth back to hers. The other snakes between their bodies and starts to undo his pants. She's obviously pleased with what she feels there because she's smirking into the kiss.]

But I like this better.

Bloody minx, ( he says, half growl, have desperate plea for her to not stop. it's weird how the two combine so easily. comparing a man's member to the fucking furniture is pretty rude, possibly he'd argue that with a few more brain cells to rub together. he's easily got four or five knocking about in his pretty head of his. all of them are absolutely fried at her touch, the velvet of her skin, the heat of her body so close to his. so much for thinking clearly, it's an impossibility when they're this close.

he's not great at not feeling when it comes to Emma Swan. a point that surely frustrates her, at least more often than not. he can't quite turn off the reality that he loves her, has loved her like a smitten boy since she planted one on him in Neverland, yet blissfully he can't ruin this moment when he's so entrenched in it.

he'll stow the silent reminders of how much he cares about her, for now, if only because all he has mental coherence for is getting as close to her as humanly possible.

she doesn't bother with the shirt still hanging akilter over her shoulders, so he tugs it off himself with his hook. her hair is a mighty splay but it only proves what a lost cause he is that he finds her static halo of hair charming. her willowy movements and warm touch is hard to think past, yet his fingers dust along her spine looking for clasps he knows are there. he bloody hates her persistence in these bra things, but he's getting better at getting rid of them. no laughing you damnable modern woman, he'll get it soon enough. and grin like the cheshire cat when it falls open and slides down her arms. ) Thought you'd bested me, ( he says, to her actual bra, as if it had villainous and malicious intent. Killian Jones, once the bloodthirsty pirate of yore, now the devilishly charming slayer of lingerie. )

[Yeah, talking to her bra is really sexy. She laughs anyway, a breathy noise that gives away exactly how turned on she is right now. Emma likes her walls, she likes to keep people out but this damn pirate has a habit of knocking his way through them like they're made of paper and not stone. Probably busts them down with his hook, since he just has to barely touch her with the thing and it feels like her skin is on fire. She wants more of that and if he's paying attention to the girl not the underthings or the girl's hand on him, he might notice the shiver that goes through her.

He breaks down her walls but she likes to think she does a pretty good job of getting through his, especially when she moves her hand and curves her wrist just so and he hardens in her hand. That hand is gone a few seconds later though, so she can let the bra drop to the floor and instead of going back to what she was doing, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in close. His bare chest pushed against hers.]

You know, [Emma nips at his chin and squeezes his hips with her legs too. Take the hint, pirate.] I think I saw a bed in the corner.

( it should be an infraction on his ego that Emma would dare laugh. either he has enough ego to spare that a laugh at his expense doesn't bother him, or the breathless huff of laughter is just so bloody attractive he doesn't even care that she's laughing at and not with him. he chases back towards her lips, a kiss that is greedy and demanding. it's horrific, if you think about it, that the thing he's found hottest so far is the genuine note of laughter escaping her. his turn ons are turning into her happiness, you don't get more far gone than that.

at least that's not the only thing about her he finds attractive. he is a man, and damn him if she's not beautiful. it's not news, he's known that about Emma about since the time she scraped off his five o'clock shadow in lieu of hello back in the enchanted forest. still, seeing the cascade of blond against bare skin and the impressive lines and curves of her body, it's even more striking.

she doesn't let him look long, yet when the price is having her near, he can forgive it. ) A bed, ( he laughs, arms snaking behind her to pull her off the desk and further against him. ) Quite perceptive, aren't you? ( the best thing about the size of his cabin is it only takes a couple steps to move them from the desk, to the bed. he doesn't exactly lay her down gently, either, dropping her into a feather mattress and kneeling on the floor in front of her to devote his focus to the pants she still has on. getting into skinny jeans is not easy when you've got one hand and one hook to work with, but he's going to do it, damn it, and if he can't manage the zipper, then he'll just pull them down her legs instead.

it's impossible to say if he was truly incapable of the zipper, considering he didn't even bother to try it. )

[Thanks for not ripping them off her with his hook. That's some real romance right here.

But let's be honest. She's not looking for romance tonight. Maybe in the morning when he'll brush her hair from her neck, maybe tomorrow afternoon when he takes her hand and brushes his lips to her knuckles, maybe at dinner when he gives her that smile that makes her feel like a little girl with a crush. That's when he can romance her.

Tonight, he can fuck her.

Emma undoes the zipper for him and lifts her hips so make it easier to pull her jeans off. Then hooks her thumb in the band of her panties and starts peeling them off too. No point in delaying the inevitable. She's the picture of bold and assured and confidence as she scoots back on his bed, and smirking at him like come and get it.]

( for Hook, honestly, that is kind of romantic. he'd have ripped her clothes off her without much in the way of remorse if he didn't know fully well she'd have to stumble back to her family sooner or later (he's hoping for later). he's not ashamed of the fact he's going to leave the royal princess with a hickey or twelve, but he's also fairly aware that Emma would not like to spend her time explaining them to her parents.

to be honest, no matter the fact he and David are "mates", Killian isn't so sure how much time he wants to spend explaining Emma's hickeys to her parents, either.

sometimes he needs the softer things, embarrassing really, for the creature he's meant to be. and other times the years of darkness show their mark, he's a bit more pirate than man, more need and greed than heart and soul. the sight of Emma Swan looking him dead in the eye as she wiggles out of the last scrap of fabric between them would kill the sentiment in just about any man, he figures.

come and get it, she suggests. well, he doesn't mind if he does. even without both his hands, he can catch her by the thighs with hand and hook and draw her near to the edge of the bed. come and get it, that seems a fair excuse for skipping the preamble as he does just that, skipping fingers to move straight to tasting her. )

Fuck. Oh-- fuck.

[Now that she knows about this particular talent of his mouth, it'll be hard to appreciate the sass that tumbles out of his mouth. Yes, you're very funny and charming, Killian but his tongue can do this and she'll take a poll if she has to-- it's a much better use of his mouth. Not that Emma has any plans to share him with anyone else. Call her selfish, call her emotionally stunted but she'll be the only one enjoying this for the time being.

That hook will meet another part of his body in an unpleasant way if he tries.

Emma's hands grab at the sheets, his hair, his shoulder, pulling and nudging to there yes right there. She even lifts her hips to get closer and hope he doesn't mind a little bald spot because her fingers latch on to his hair when he hits something that sends sparks up and down her spine and she's holding him right there. Might be that she's a little selfish and demanding when being eaten out but better belief she returns the favor. She's close now, which is either a testament to his skill or how horny she's been all day or both.]

Killian, yes.

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