#wereleopard!killian

Inside the pavillon Emma sighs, a long exhale thatpreceded the thumping of books on the marble floor.

Were he able to laugh inhis actual form, Killian would’ve chuckled warmly, no matter if she would glareat him. Emma knows he wouldn’t be laughing at her, but at how cute she is whenflustered.

Her shoulders slump inwhat looks like defeat and his senses go on high alert: his Swan is not one tobe easily defeated.

Raising from his hidingplace in the garden, not too far away from the pavillon yet enough not to be noticed, Killian stretches hismuscular feline body, back bowing as he does so, claws digging into the soil.

Slowly, almost lazily, hemakes his way to the building, eyes still on his princess but ready to shift toany danger that may find its way - and, ultimately its demise - into the royalgardens.

Emma’s tutor has yet toleave the pavillon when Killian comesinside, invisible until he stands almost at the center of the room, the longwhite curtains blowing beside him like sails.

The tutor, an uptightwoman - nay, a fairy - whose name isBlue, winces at the sight of him. Though she was the one to find him and askfor his services, the woman, even after all these years, has yet to get used tohis presence. It’s a good thing everyone else reacts that way when they’rearound him, whether he is in leopard or human form.

That is, everyone but thewoman standing with her fists clenched at her sides.

Ignoring the fairy completely,Killian saunters towards Emma, her form shaking ever so slightly, though itwould appear quite still to human eyes.

With a low, gutturalgrowl, he nudges her hand with his wet nose, teeth nibbling at the soft skin onthe outer side of her hand. Immediately, her body is consumed with musicallaughter. Killian remembers very well the first time he heard her laugh, whendark days weren’t over yet, looming over them and their growing bond like athreat.

The fury he can smell on her subsides, becoming just afaint memory as relief and happiness wash over her.

Ignoring the fairy’sshocked gasp, Emma gathers her skirts and plops down on the floor, gown flaringaround her. She shifts a bit more and he hears the soft thump of her shoesbeing discarded.

Nudging the skirt withhis huge paw - he doesn’t have a death wish despite his lack of control when inhuman form, although the many torn clothes would suggest otherwise - Killianthen settles down next to her, head resting on her lap.

Immediately, Emma’s handsfly over him, one to scratch behind his ear and the other over his ribs,fingers spread so she can feel his strong heartbeat, so she can make sure it’sstill there.

All Killian can do isbury his head into her lap, showing his princess he’s there, that he’s aliveand he’s not going to go anywhere. He is a survivor, after all.

After minutes of silencein which he registers their heartbeats, the chirping of the birds outside, theway the leaves brush against each other, the distant chatting of the servantshurrying to prepare the most magnificent ball for their princess’ birthday,Emma finally speaks.

«Do you think anyonewould notice if I made her disappear?»

Twisting his neck to lookher in the eyes, Killian instinctively arches a brow. He knows, Emma told himmany times, that even if he doesn’t have regular eyebrows, he still looks as ifhe’s doing it, his muzzle more expressive than he ever thought it was. Manythings he discovered were more sincehe met his Swan.

«Just for a bit?» sheasks, capturing the corner of her lower lip with her teeth. His blue eyes -such a peculiar colour, not belonging to actual leopards unless they are snowones - darken at that, and a low growl resonates in the back of his throat. Heshould be ashamed of such animalistic reactions, but the twitch at the cornersof Emma’s mouth make him ignore such trifles. «You’d better stay by my side allevening, or I swear I’ll strangle someone.»

The sound he makes soundsvery much like a guffaw.

Emma gently but firmlysmacks his forehead. «Don’t laugh, or you’ll be the one getting strangled.» Athis mocking expression she adds, «And not in the good way.»

With a growl, Killianbares his fangs.

During his time as herprotector he’s been threatened, put in danger over and over, and sometimes evenon the brink of death, but none of those situations ever instilled fear in himas much as any threat falling from Emma’s lips or made towards her does.

With a heartfelt laugh,Emma leans forward and scratches that spot behind his ear, the same that madehis tail take off at top speed, completely uncontrolled. Killian huffs, or thefeline equivalent for it.

On a whim, he reaches outwith his head and licks the ticklish spot on her neck, the one he loves to rubhis stubble over whenever he’s in human form.

The genuine laugh thatbubbles up her throat is payment enough for him: no treasure he ever pillagedand plundered is worth losing the privilege to make her laugh.

-/-

Even in human form he cansmell her.

Tonight, however, hertrue scent is masked by perfumes she decided to pour in her bath - a bath hedidn’t partake in, much to his disappointment. It makes his nose twitch so muchhe fears he’ll start sneezing like that bloody dwarf. It’s not a bad scent, farfrom it, he’s simply not used to it, to Emma hiding herself so.

To be completely fair,Killian understands why she tries to shield herself from every person shemeets.

Just as she asked, hestands next to her in human form, clad in his best leathers, the clothes Emmaprefers to see him in if he really needsto put them on. His princess does have a dark side, and Killian is perhaps atad too proud of being the one who made her discover it.

Tonight, the night of theball held in honour of her coronation as queen, Emma is radiant.

It’s not the crownresting atop her blonde hair, its diamonds capturing the light, just like it’snot the way her skin has been scrubbed so it would appear as white as snow:it’s Emma herself.

For years, as theybattled the Evil Queen side by side, she’s doubted herself and hercapabilities, fearing she wouldn’t be able to take Regina down and that shewould ultimately disappoint her people.

Killian knows what shemeant, what she still means, because it’s a fear both of them, much like everyother leader, has, but buries deep within themselves, wishing they could justforget about it, and when they do, it comes back in a rush like a tidal wave,drowning them. Now that they are together, however, the tide doesn’t seem asstrong as it once did.

Emma’s joy is not forced,she’s not wearing a mask, though she does wear her own armor, knowing all toowell most of the people she met are either trying to grant themselves amarriage or grant one for their sons.

Not for the first timethat night Emma has to talk him out of the idea of shifting and painting thefloor blood red. He would’ve helped clean up, but apparently his jealousywasn’t worth a war. The smell of her arousal every time his role in her life isquestioned and he growls so lowly only she can hear him, arm tighteningpossessively around her waist, is enough to quench his thirst for blood.

As for the thirst for herbody, well, during the evening he had to talk himself - and his cock - downfrom dragging her into one of the secluded alcoves and have his way with her.

After the last speech isgiven and the remaining suitors have been indirectly warned to take the bestoption and not make fools of themselves, the queen and her pirate share apassionate kiss on the dance floor and Emma finally, finally allows him - she would always deny she begged him - to take her to bed.

When the mourning periodended, Emma had to move into the queen’s apartments, the ones Killian is veryfamiliar with, having become his own as well. Unofficially, that is. Aftertonight, though, he’s not so sure. Not that he really cares.

«Wait,» Emma gaspsagainst his lips just inside their quarters, back pressed against the coldstony wall. Her right hand leaves Killian’s crumpled shirt to fly to her crown,meaning to take it off.

«Leave. It. On.» hegrowls menacingly, fingers digging almost painfully into her back, ready totear the crimson fabric from her body if she even thinks about rebelling.

He doesn’t have to fear:the glint in her eyes is as bright as the diamonds she’s wearing.

Emma licks her lips. «Youwant to kneel for your queen, pet?»

A shudder runs down hisspine, cock twitching in his now too tight leather pants. An itch creeps up hisneck as he recalls all too well the sensation of the leather collar she lovesto fasten around it when she is the one in charge, tugging at it with thematching leash wrapped around one wrist while the other is enveloped by herwhip. Though he knows things won’t change, Emma referring to herself as hisqueen instead of princess make his knees buckle.

Tonight, however, Emmawon’t be in charge at all.

«I want the queen tokneel for the captain.»

He can feel her breathhitch in her throat and a quiet gasp leaves her swollen lips. Gulping, Emmafollows his order, not struggling in the least. Killian knows what it means, heknows what his lover wants: she wants to be dominated, to surrender the powershe holds and represents and give it to him.

Around her, the gownpools like a sea of silk, the way she looks up at him with those big, jadeeyes, no matter how hungry for him they appear, makes her look so innocent. Thecrown on her head, slightly askew, is the last straw.

Unbeknownst to her, she is in full command even whenshe thinks she’s relinquishing it to him, something Killian had to getused to after he met Emma, but not uncomfortable at all.

He smiles a lazy smile,hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Beneath the tips of hisfingers, Killian can feel her heart thrumming in her veins as he trails themslowly down her throat.

Emma waits, hands on herthighs, visibly itching to undo the laces of his leather pants and find thetreasure inside. But Killian is nothing but methodical, capable of turning intoa terrible torturer when the situation calls for it. He would never hurt Emma,he’d die first, take his own life if he even thought he would be her demise,but push her to her limits? Definitely.

His thumb traces herthroat, up to her chin and then to her mouth, where he skims the kiss-bruisedlower lip. He can feel her hot, laboured breath on his skin, the moist tip ofher tongue mere inches away, certainly dying to taste him but not daring to doso: Emma knows better.

There’s no scenario, noneed to talk about her as if it’s the first time they’ve met, it’s the samegame they always engage in, just with different titles and a crown on one’shead this time. One day, Killian knows he’ll have to wear one, but for now he’srather happy with Emma wearing what is rightfully hers yet submitting to himstill.

«Come on, lass,» hetaunts her, voice low as he looks down at her with hooded eyes, «don’t be shy.I don’t bite too hard. And only to bring pleasure.»

No, it’s not true, whenhe bites he’s capable of taking a life, and they both know it. It’s a matter oftrust, because she trusts him never to hurt her, whether he’s in human form ornot.

The flash of amusement inher eyes and the way her lips twitch almost makes him break into a laugh.

Tentatively, brushing herringed fingers up his legs, the heat of them perceptible through his leatherpants, Emma reaches the laces at the front and wraps one around her indexfingers. Biting her lip so she won’t smile, she tugs at it a little, withouthowever undoing the knot.

Killian groans infrustration.

In full command, indeed, he muses, fingertips instinctively digging into herchin as her own run over his clothed cock.

Emma undoes the laces,opening his pants to free his throbbing member. Killian gulps as her warmfingers wrap around the heated flesh. She pumps her hand up and down, slowly,thumb smearing precum over the tip, making him hiss through clenched teeth.However, she doesn’t take him in her mouth: he hasn’t ordered her to… yet.

«Good girl,» he purrs,taking pleasure in the way her expression shifts: she’s proud of herself, andnot because she knows his knees are getting weaker by the moment, but becauseof his praise. Killian smiles. «Open.»

Her mouth falls openimmediately, but slowly, sensually.

Covering her smaller handwith his, Killian shifts closer, warm breath blowing over the sensitive skin onthe head of his cock. «I want your lips wrapped around me, love. I want you tosuck me until I tell you to stop.»

Without hesitating, Emmatakes him in her mouth, tongue pressing over that spot under his cock, making him moan.

Killian tilts his headback, eyes closed in pleasure at the feeling of Emma’s hot mouth sucking himoff. The way her tongue swirls around the tip, sweeping onto the seam atop ofit, makes him groan and his knees threaten to give out. It’s only by sheerforce of will that he keeps himself on his feet, even when Emma hollows hercheeks around him, sucking hard.

His hand flies to herhair, freeing the golden locks from the pins that fall on the floor around her,but Emma doesn’t stop working her magic, wrapping her hand around the part ofhis cock she can’t take in her mouth. Not tonight, at least.

In the past, his queensurprised him with her capabilities, both in and out of their bedchambers. Heloves the fact that, even after years, she can still surprise him.

She knows she doesn’thave his permission to make him come, this is no seduction game by any means.Not from her part, at least. This is no worshipping night, not the sweet kindthat has him murmur praises into her skin until she’s a quivering mess and cancome from the sound of his words alone. Not that tonight he won’t worship her,of course, but Emma is not in need of sweet words: she’s craving dominance,pure lust that will ignite every inch of her body just as it will his.

From his height, Killianlooks down at Emma, her eyes never wavering from his face. He knows, though:she’s shifted slightly on her knees, probably to press her thighs together.

He squints slightly,wondering whether or not to punish her for that. Usually, he would, but he didn’ttell her not to move at all. What he can do, however,  is make sure she’s not going to repeat thegesture again for a while.

A wicked smile spreadsacross his face; beneath his mask of cruelty the passion is threatening toovercome him too soon.

«Stop.»

Perfectly masking herreluctance, Emma pulls away from him, her fingers still wrapped around his hotflesh.

Roughly enough to exciteher, but tender enough not to hurt, Killian drags her up by her hair. Thanks toher heels, she’s almost as tall as he is, eyes boring into his. It doesn’tmatter how long they’ve been together, there’s still a spark of innocence inher eyes; he’s glad he didn’t take it away from her by coming into her life.

He wants to kiss herthoroughly, to sweep her off her feet, but he’ll get the chance to do so soonenough. Kiss her, that is. For tonight, he’s happy enough with turning heraround and pressing her back against his solid chest. He bites back a hiss atthe feeling of her skirt against his throbbing cock.

He doesn’t want to tearher dress, and as much as he would gladly look forward to her revenge, the gownis one he would love to save from his ruthless hunger.

His nails dig into herskin, so much he leaves red marks on her shoulders as he drags the sleeves downher arms, her bosom jutting out, the valley between her breasts so tempting,inviting him to pour oils and honey down her chest, or to cover it with hisseed.

The thought - and memoryof the times in which he’s partaken in said fantasy - is almost enough to makehim come undone on the spot.

Restraining himself fromlicking a path from her shoulder up her neck, Killian finds the laces at theback of the dress, carefully hidden from prying eyes, and unfastens them. Thegown almost falls apart as he tugs at the ribbons, Emma’s free arm going tosupport it and keep it pressed against her chest. It only takes a growl fromKillian to make her move it and for the dress to fall in a heap at her feet.

The sight of her in hershift and stockings, not to mention the corset pushing her breasts higher, issomething he would love to capture in a drawing. One day, he’ll ask her to posefor him again, perhaps in the same clothes, but definitely with the crown onher head.

Killian gulps, the factthat her undergarments are snow white, making him sweat. Bloody hell, shehasn’t radiated so much innocence since their first time together.

He looms over her, nosebrushing her hair,  nostrils filling of her scent. With one thick finger hetraces a line down the side of her neck and across her chest, just above theheavy necklace she’s worn all day long. His eyes narrow. Yes, she would be asuch a sight tied up the way he wants her to, wearing only the precious jewelryhe once used to steal from queens like her.

«Undress yourself.»

The shock is clear on herface, her expression bewildered as if he had just poured a bucket of icy waterover her. The malicious smile on his lips only widens further.

With trembling hands anda sharp intake, Emma obeys.

Slowly, she unties thecorset as instructed, her breasts bouncing slightly as she frees them, nipplesstraining against the sheer material of her shift.

Instinctively, he lickshis lips, almost tasting her on histongue, and wondering, not for the first time, what her milk would taste like. It’s a thought he’s been toyingwith a tad too much lately, one he knows neither Emma or himself is ready toface, not when the kingdom is still fragile. Besides, Killian may have inquiredabout the length of engagements when it comes to royals of Emma’s status and hecan’t really allow himself to put a bastard in her belly. Whatever child theywould be lucky to be blessed with would be born well into their marriage: hewon’t risk any of them to be cast out from uptight royals, no matter what couldbecome of him.

There would be time forthat in the future, much like for the marriage proposal he’s planning to askonce in Arendelle in six months time.

Though part of his mindmight have wandered off towards unexplored paths, Killian’s attention is stillon Emma, following her lithe form walk towards the bed. Once she’s facing oneside of it, the side that usually starts off as hers - though ultimately sheends up occupying all the mattress whilst sprawled over him - Emma slips onefoot from her heeled shoes, the movement slow as she bends her knee and bringsher toes to rest on the mattress.

Deliberately slowly, shebrushes her fingers over the thin material of the stocking, up to hermid-thigh, where it ends in a strip of lace. The hem of her short shift hasridden up her thigh, cascading down her hip and baring more of her creamy skinto Killian’s eyes.

She’s pulled her lowerlip between her teeth, something she knows makes him go mad with lust given theinnocence of the gesture. Without looking at him, she slips her thumbs beneaththe lace, slowly pushing the stocking off.

Unconsciously, Killianhas taken himself in hand, pumping up and down his cock in the slow rhythmshe’s set for undressing herself. He knows he has to stop, and he will, soon,he won’t come now, but the sight is so erotic he can’t just look at her and donothing, especially not when every inch of skin bared pushes him towards theedge.

She doesn’t throw thestocking at him, not tonight, at least, and proceeds to take off the other one.When her other leg is naked, too, Emma turns to face him with eyes downcast,her fingers going to her shoulder to toy with the thin strap of her shiftbefore letting it slip down her arm. She does the same to the other one and shelooks like sin incarnate as she stands with the thin material almost hangingfrom her breasts like one of those models portrayed in once banished portraits.

It takes another slightpull on the laces at the front of the neckline for the shift to open furtherand slide down her body, finally leaving her naked in front of him.

For a moment, Killiancannot even remember his own name as he’s washed over by her beauty like atidal wave hitting the rocks.

She’s almost ethereal inthe faint glow of the candles around them, rosy nipples darker as they strainagainst the slight chill of the evening coming in from the open windows. Withhungry eyes, Killian follows an invisible path down her taut stomach to where agolden treasure lies. He should’ve known she wasn’t wearing undergarments, hisnaughty queen.

Forcing himself not tothrow her on the bed and tongue her into oblivion before burying himself sodeep inside her he would lose what little sanity he’s clung to, Killian tuckshimself away, grimacing at the discomfort. He’s still fully dressed, whichmakes his proximity to Emma even more erotic.

«On the bed, face up,»Killian whispers in her ear, nose almost brushing her cheekbone but not quite,taunting her and tormenting himself at the same time.

Licking her lips, Emmacomplies, hands resting at her sides. He can see visions of nights past, nightson which he feasted on her, dipping fruits in the whipped cream adorning hernipples in a swirl and lapping at the dark rivulets of melted chocolate coatingher whole body. Delicious.

Looking at her, Killianmakes sure she isn’t uncomfortable wearing her crown in that position, but sheseems relaxed, surely trying to prepare herself for what’s to come. He hideshis grin from her as he slowly walks to the old, tall dresser only they havethe key for in the form of the cross and skull charm hanging from a chainaround his neck. As for Emma, she has a matching charm mounted on a ring shenever slips off her right index finger.

Knowing she’s looking athim, Killian takes his time discarding the heavy leather coat, leaving it onthe chaise longue, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt, straining the thinmaterial.

From one of the topdrawers, he takes leather bonds, the material creaking softly as he wraps themaround his hand. He won’t blindfold nor gag her, only torture her a bit.

Keeping the restraintsout of her line of sight, Killian moves to the foot of the bed where he standsfor a minute, watching her, absorbing the heavenly vision of her willing bodyinto his mind.

Gently but firmly, hegrabs her ankle, slowly wrapping the strap around it and fastening it tightenough to slightly bite into her skin but not enough to hurt her or leave anindelible mark. Only Killian was allowed to mark her forever.

After securing her leftankle to the bedpost and relishingin the way her thighs part, showing him her glistening center, Killian moves tothe head of the bed where he proceeds to wrap the bindings around her wristsjoined above her head, arms stretched and trembling.

Once he’s tied theleather strap to the carved headboard, one they’d commissioned just for thatusage more than an aesthetic need, Killian speaks again.

«You’re not allowed tomove or make a sound. I won’t blindfold or gag you: restraining yourself iscompletely up to you.»

It’s almost therapeutic,he’d dare say, especially given his upbringing, the way he and Liam have beenused as slaves and trained like animals after they first presented as weres.Killian doesn’t do this to make Emma suffer, he’d kill himself with his ownbare hands before harming her, but he enjoys - they both do - the sexual aspectof the torture. The Cricket would probably enlighten them on their psyche, butneither Killian nor Emma desire to speak of their sexual preferences with him.

Methodically, Killiangoes back and forth between the bed and the dresser, laying down the items hewants to torture her with and a brand new bottle of peach and opium scentedoil, one of the latest creations of Sultana Jasmine.

The first thing he picksup is a peacock feather, tracing her forearm first, down towards her neck wherehe knows she can’t stand being touched from something that isn’t his nose orlips. There’s a sharp intake; Killian almost pouts when she doesn’t move norgasps. He’s trained her well, but that’s not just his own merit: Emma has beenknown to be stubborn as hell.

Nothing can stop thesmirk of delight curling his mouth as she thrashes slightly when the featherteases her pert nipples. Immediately, he pulls his arm away, rejoicing in theway she bites down on her lower lip to stop herself from screaming infrustration.

He awaits in silence, notmoving at all from where he stands, eyes roaming over Emma’s body as her breathgoes back to a regular rhythm. When he’s sure she’s ready to take more, Killianlowers the feather back where it was before.

More than once shebreaks, the feather’s pressure too much and not enough at the same time,especially when Killian avoids her mound, using the tip of his tortureinstrument to just brush over the goldhair there. At that, Emma cries out, making him stop for seventy-nine seconds.Counting is a method as good as any to keep himself sane.

Killian knows when to bemagnanimous, deciding not to tickle the soles of her feet: there’s only so muchEmma can bear.

Yet, that doesn’t stophim from casting the feather aside in order to take another item from where itlies between Emma’s spread feet.

The middlemist’s petalsare both a blessing and another circle of hell to Emma, Kilian knows it fromthe way her eyes shut close, throat moving oh so sensually when she gulps. Hehas to block out the flood of images of his cock bulging in her throat with himlooking down at her, sometimes applying a slight pressure. His Emma is not justa queen, she’s a goddess.

This time, he does tickleher feet, biting back a laugh when she crosses her toes: it still is amovement, therefore he can’t continue for several more seconds.

The path he traces isunlike the one he followed with the feather, and so are his movements and the pressurehe applies. Licking his lips, he twirls the flower over her aching nipples, thewhimper she emits so low even he has trouble hearing it. For a moment, hecontemplates whether or not to stop, but he’ll put her out of her misery soonenough. Therefore, he stops, Emma’s whine music to his ears.

Back and forth he dragsthe flower up her legs, this time allowing himself to dip it between herthighs, tracing her folds and collecting her nectar as it drips onto the bed.Like the bastard that he is, Killian then brings the flower to his nose,inhaling deeply, all the while keeping his eyes locked with Emma’s. She gulpsaudibly, her whole body trembling slightly.

Smiling evilly, he placesthe glistening flower back in the vase from whence he took it.

Taking his time, Killiansits down on the bed, back to Emma, and slips his boots off, standing thenbarefoot to place them near the dresser. Knowing her eyes are following himonce more, Killian takes off his vest, twisting around slightly to roll thesleeves up his forearms, muscles flexing and tattoos almost coming alive on hisskin.

The next item he picks upis the bottle of scented oil, relishing in the way Emma’s eyes widen. Beingtickled is one thing, she knows he can stop the touch of any other item when itbecomes too much, but liquid? That he cannot stop.

He opens the bottle,breathing in the rich scent of the opium perfectly mixed with the sweet andfresh aroma of peaches. Jasmine knows him well.

Settling with one kneebent beneath himself, Killian reaches out with one hand and brushes dampstrands of hair away from her sweaty brow. Her bright eyes are shining withcomplicity and excitement. Killian almost kisses her, but he’s learned not tobreak the rules of his own game.

Silently, Killian tipsthe bottle, one thumb over the opening so only a few droplets fall on thehollow of her neck, the liquid sloshing at her every breath. He moves his thumba little, allowing a thin trickle of oil to coat the valley between herbreasts.

Blue eyes watch as therivulet descends down her sternum and stomach as Emma arches her back.

Killian tuts, clickinghis tongue. Emma’s eyes bore into his, begging him to let her move. His onlyanswer is another tip of the bottle over her belly button. She sucks in herstomach making the oil pool in the hollow she created only to slide down theside of her waist when she exhales.

Still holding herpleading gaze, Killian moves his arm back, until she shuts her eyes close and asob leaves her tormented lips. His smile widens as he looks back to where hishand is suspended over Emma’s center, the oil drenching her pubic hair anddripping down her sensitive folds, mixing with her juices, and onto the bed.Neither of them ever cared about the mess.

Killian can’t help butlook at her, admiring the way she’s hungrily staring at him, how her eyessparkle with raw need, a need he plans to satisfy soon enough. He just has totorment her a little longer.

Allowing Emma a fewmoments to collect herself, Killian stands, placing the bottle on the small roundtable next to the bed where a pile of books sits next to an intricatecandelabra.

As he pads back to thedresser, Killian lifts his shirt from the back, exposing the black ink there,lines and curves tracing the form of a ship surrounded by a kraken’s tentacles,its hull transformed into a skull from whose mouth the tentacles seem to comeout, curling around different parts of the ship, one of them tightly holdingonto the anchor.

It reminds Killian of thefate of many ships, their inept captains too proud to back off when faced withthe terror of the seas. It’s not just a reminder, however, it’s part of hisstory, of who he is, and he particularly loves the way Emma’s fingers trace theblack lines. She seems to be in love with his tattoos as much as she is in lovewith him, and Killian can’t keep his heart from bursting with deep joy at thethought.

From another drawer,Killian takes out a scented candle, carefully hiding it from Emma with hisbody. Using one of the candles hanging near his head, he lights up the one inhis hand, the whiff of vanilla filling his nostrils.

Emma gasps at the sightof the burning candle, eyes darkening and body quivering. Playing with wax issomething new for her, something she enjoys very much, but never in her darkestthoughts she ever thought tonight would involve it. She’s glad Killian canstill surprise her.

Her eyes follow him as heplaces the candle on the table next to the oil, letting it burn and melt. Nospeaking still, he reaches the foot of the bed once more, deftly undoing theleather bindings, fingers massaging her ankles to stimulate the circulation. Itstings, and Emma’s face scrunches in discomfort.

A loud yelp echoes in theroom as Killian grabs her ankles and lifts her from the bed, twisting herroughly in the air and letting her fall face down on the bed. He doesn’t waitfor her to catch her breath, swatting her ass hard; the hand-shaped imprint heleaves on her cheek tinting a delicious red.

«You can talk, now, but Iadvise you don’t move too much,» Killian tells her gently, brushing her damphair away from her flushed face and shoulders. She’s smiling, humming indelight, almost purring, at the way he brushes his knuckles over her cheek.

Emma hisses in pleasurewhen the first drop of candle wax drips onto her skin, right between hershoulder blades, and down, creating a thin line to the center of her back, waxgathering into the dip of her spine.

«How is that?» Killianasks huskily, trusting Emma to use her safeword if she doesn’t feelcomfortable.

Emma sighs, content.«Wonderful.» The sound turns into a moan when Killian tips the candle once moreand slowly traces his name on her back, temporarily branding her as his. Helowers himself over her, close enough for her to sense his closeness but far enoughnot to let the wax coat his chest hair.

More decorations follow,swirls, flowers, an anchor on her right buttock, even. It makes her giggle, thesound melting into low moans whenever he pours more wax on her. This is as muchas some kind of foreplay as it is a way to care for her.

The last act consists ina drizzle of wax poured on her lower back, creating an intricate design ofcurved lines going from one hip to the other and finishing with a fat drop inthe hollow between her buttocks. Killian is careful not to let it slip lower,but he swats her clean cheek before bending down to bite it. Hard.

«Fuck!» Emma screams,quivering under him, arms straining against her bonds as she arches her back.

Killian grins, sucking amark beneath the divots of his teeth. When he rises up to his knees on the bed,he takes his time to admire his handiwork, the wax a special one that doesn’tharden right away.

«Wonderful,» Killianmurmurs to himself, setting the still-burning candle down on the table, lettingits scent fill the room. Slowly, he takes off his pants, cock hard and bobbingagainst his stomach. Grabbing the bottle of scented oil, Killian goes back tothe bed, kneeling over it and sitting back on his haunches.

«Up on your knees, love.»

The order is followed ina second, Emma scrambling to her knees, keeping them wide and exposing herselfto him. Killian groans at the sight of her sex, her folds slick with her juicesand the oil he poured over her earlier. His self-control about to slip, Killianstrokes himself to keep himself from spilling his seed too soon.

Arse in the air, cuntspread in front of his hungry eyes, back coated in vanilla wax and, cherry ontop, the shining crown over her head, Emma is the most delectable of banquets.He bends forward, he can’t help it, he needs to taste her.

«Gods, Killian,» Emma cries the moment histongue connects with her sex, thighs quivering and hips bucking towards hisface, her self-control long gone by now.

It takes her a few slipsof his tongue to make her come, and Killian can’t help the grin curling hislips. «My beautiful queen,» he praises her. «So needy. Someone would think youenjoy being toyed with, being tormented. Someone would say you even love thepain.»

Emma whimpers at hiswords: they hit her like a surge of magic in contrast to the deafening silenceshe’s had to endure until now. Killian knows how much his voice turns her on,how his rough and deep tone can set her aflame with the shortest word and howhis praises can take her over the edge of pleasure in no time at all.

All the new ways in whichhe uses this knowledge is what excites Emma the most, she loves to explore hersexuality, her body, and Killian is honoured she’s chosen him to learn her ownsecrets.

Not hearing any replycoming from her mouth, Killian threads his fingers through her loose locks andpulls. Hard. «Answer me, love,» he growls in her ear, cock nestled between herbuttocks oh so deliciously he has to bite the inside of his cheek not to justtake her.

«I am! I do!» Emmawhimpers, hips swaying as she tries to rub herself against Killian, to obtainthat friction she desperately craves.

A loud smacking sound andthe sting on her arse warns her not to move. Had it been another type of night,she would’ve disobeyed him only to be punished. For tonight, she’s sufferedenough, and Killian, too, can’t wait to be buried inside of her.

The way she’s pulledupright allows her to use her hands to keep herself steady when needed, theleather straps digging painfully but deliciously into her skin.

Killian’s fingers wraparound her throat, pulling her back almost to his chest. «You are perfect.»Love bites are left in her skin, a trail going from her neck to her shoulder.There’s a wicked grin on his face that Emma can’t see when he brings the bottleof scented oil in front of her. «Open.»

If she’s surprised by hisorder, she doesn’t show it at all, body still trembling.

Once he makes sure herlips are parted enough, Killian brings the bottle to her lips. «Hold it.»

Angling her head so shewon’t accidentally drink it, Emma does as she’s told, lush lips wrapping aroundthe glass neck. Killian is almost thankful he doesn’t have a good view for hemight very well burst by the sight of it.

«Good girl,» he purrs inher ear before lining himself up and pushing inside her in a smooth, hardthrust. Their twin groans echo against the walls, Emma’s walls tighteningaround Killian like a vice, almost threatening to send him over the edge toosoon.

She’s so hot around him,her core like molten lava welcoming him so easily it really feels likereturning home. Emma feels like home.

Swiftly, Killian takesthe bottle from her mouth, allowing her to breathe and gasp when he pours theoil down her neck and back, its rich scent, mixed with the vanilla one of thecandle and the one that’s simply Emmathreatens to take over what little rationality he has left.

He can feel the oilpooling where his pelvis is flush against her arse, the wax slowly beingdragged down her back. Roughly, he pushes her face down on the mattress, hishand slipping from her hair and down her neck as the other throws the now emptybottle somewhere in the room where it falls - thankfully - on a carpet with adull thud. Fingers dance over her skin, kneading the flesh in a ravenousmassage, the feeling of the melting wax beneath his fingers and the oilytexture of the perfumed liquid an unfamiliar one when he’s used to touching herdirectly, to feel her skin right beneath his.

Emma cries out louderthan before when he thrusts roughly inside of her, her walls clenching sotightly he would’ve been brought to his knees had he been standing. Up and downhis hands trail, squeezing her cheeks and hips to bring her closer.

«C-captain,» Emma stuttersbetween pants, letting him know she’s about to come.

«So soon?» Killian tsks,grinding himself into her, the head of his cock bumping into her cervix. Emmascreams but he doesn’t slow down, buttocks clenching with every thrust andpleasure pooling at the base of his spine. He can’t let go, not now, not yet.

Emma’s climax is sopowerful he can hear her voice break even if her face is buried in the blanketsas her walls clamp down around him repeatedly, dragging him even deeper.

She’s still a shiveringmess, yet Killian doesn’t stop, fingers threading through her hair and pullingher back flush to his chest, hips snapping up with a sound smack against herflesh. His mouth descends upon her neck, sucking dark marks there as his handsglide up her stomach to her plump and heavy breasts, cupping them, tweaking andplucking the hard nubs just to make her moan loudly in ecstasy.

Their skin is sweaty andcovered in both oil and wax, surely making a mess of the bed, but neither ofthem cares, too lost in the throes of passion and in one another to be able toacknowledge anything else outside the way their bodies and souls are connected.

From her bruised neck,Killian trails his lips up to her ear, biting the tender lobe. Emma’s hips snapback with force, making him groan inpleasure, cock twitching inside her. He’s too close, and he knows she is, too,but he’s not done with her. Too bad there’s not a mirror in front of them. Yet,he can still see her in his mind, and his hand can see for him, too.

«I wish I could see you,my queen, see how you look so debauched with your ancestors’ crown askew onyour head,» Killian rasps low in her ear, one hand keeping her upright as hekeeps moving inside her while the other traces her collarbones from oneextremity to another, «I wish I could see the blush on your skin, from yourround cheeks and down, down over your chest. There I would admire yourmagnificent breasts.» He weighs one soft mound in his palm, rolling the nipplebetween his fingers, the keening sound that leaves Emma’s lips is music asangelic as a siren’s call. «I’d love to see your stomach tremble,» Killiancontinues, the knuckles of his other hand slowly trailing down her stomachbefore he grins against the shell of her ear, tongue peeking out to trace it ashe presses his palm right over he can feel himself buried inside her. Emmagasps for air, hands pulling at her restraints. «Do you feel it, my queen? Doyou feel how deep I am inside of you?» He can’t help but press his hand harderagainst the bulge his cock creates with every thrust.

«Killian!» Emma screams, lungs begging for air. «Please!»

But Killian only shakeshis head, damp strands of hair tickling her cheek. «How long will it take me,love? How many flicks of my fingers over your precious pearl will it take me tobring you over the edge? Or will you only need a slight brush over it?»

Of course, he neverplanned on going easy on her, on justbrushing her clit, nay: he trails middle and index fingers down her abdomen tothe hard bundle of nerves, flicking it faster and faster as her screams fillhis ears and heart.

He shows no mercy, nordoes Emma expect any, and soon she’s flying over the edge of pleasure, his namea shouted prayer falling from her lips, her fluttering sex gushing, drenching Killian’s hand and cock, coating his strainingballs and down his trembling thighs as he, too, chases his own release.

Her name is a prayer onhis lips as he presses himself further inside her, his seed spurting hotlywithin her, thick ribbons coating her womb and walls.

Gently, with his foreheadpressed against her shoulder and breath short, Killian lies them down on theirside, one heavy hand going to free Emma’s wrists. He brings first one and thenthe other to his lips, fingers tenderly brushing over the red marks.

Nestled against him, Emmawhimpers at the sensation of blood rushing again through her veins, painKillian slowly takes away from her with gentle caresses and kisses, triggeringher healing magic. Sometimes, she would joke sayin he’s her personal source ofmagic and, in a way, he is: Emma might hold the lightest of magic, but it’s heremotions that fuel said power, and what more powerful magic than True Love isthere?

They stay like that untilKillian’s soft member slips from her, eliciting another moan from Emma. «Shush,my love,» he whispers in her ear, nuzzling her cheek. «You’ll feel bettersoon.»

Beneath the castle is ahot spring no one but the royal family and few selected members of the castlestaff knows about, the waters not too hot but definitely warm enough to bathein.

It’s there that Killiancarries Emma, body curled against his chest, making his way down the narrowstone staircase hidden behind a door in the queen’s chamber.

The first time Emmashowed it to him, he was pleasantly shocked, but didn’t lose his time infollowing his temptress of a princess in the steamy waters.

Part of the closest bankhas been sculpted into a nook where one can sit and enjoy the water lapping attheir body.

Emma hisses in discomfortwhen her sensitive flesh comes in contact with the warm water, arms tighteningaround Killian’s shoulders. The stinging sensations fades slowly the more shestays in the water, Killian sat on the stony underwater bench and her bodyfloating boneless.

A sigh leaves her lips asshe tilts her head back on his shoulder, eyes closed still and hair free of allthe pins and the heavy crown, left unguarded on the bed.

Killian leans back, onearm thrown over Emma’s stomach as he tilts his head backwards and closes hiseyes, basking in the afterglow and aftercare of such a rough lovemaking.

What seems ages later,Emma’s voice breaks the silence, a whisper in the underground cavern. To hissensitive hearing, however, her words echo against the walls.

«If we ever were to havechildren, would they be wereleopards, too?»

To be entirely honest,Killian doesn’t know what shocks him the most, the fact that Emma is talkingabout children or that she’s been wondering if they would be like him. It meansshe’s thought about them, much like he has. Gods, has he ever.

Gulping, Killian nods. «Ibelieve so, aye. After all, Liam and I both inherited it from father. Mamaalways used to tell us stories of the Jones clan to protect us and warn not toreveal our secret and… you are not listening to me, are you?» The amusementin his voice is clear, the grin on his lips widening as she bites on her lowerlip and shakes her head.

«I heard what you said,but I just… I like how it sounds,» Emma admits, sheepishly, cheeks reddening,eyes still close. «Mama, I mean. I like it.»

The sound of his breathhitching in his throat surprises even him, but nothing shocks him like the wayhis heart seems to melt in his chest, the fantasies he’s had… «I like it, too.»His voice is gruff, the admission leaving him breathless.

Emma hums in contentment.«Good,» she sighs, one dripping wet arm moving to wrap around the back of hisneck, fingers threading through his dark locks, effulgent green eyes gazing upat him with unconditional love. «We need to wait a bit longer, I’m afraid, butnever fear, my love: we’ll be a happy family for a very, very long time.»