littlerubywolff on Tumblr requested: "smutty, drunk, truth or dare, with emma and hook on the jolly roger"

Note: There's no Truth or Dare, but there is rum and smut. Enjoy!

Heated Skin

"Is it hot in here or is it just me?" Emma asked, lifting the hem of her shirt and shaking it to cool off her burning hot stomach. Her cheeks were flushed darkly, her eyes lazily half lidded, her lips parted as she drew in a shaky breath.

Killian tugged at the collar of his shirt with two fingers, before running his fingers through his hair, lifting the hair from his clammy brow, "Insufferably hot." He eyed the empty glasses of rum in front of them on the table and nodded his head towards them. "I blame the rum."

"I blame you." Emma said, without really thinking – that was clearly evident by the way she covered her mouth the second the words hit the air.

"Me you say?" Killian's voice was lower now, his accent a little thicker than it normally was. "And why might it be my fault, lass?" His lips twitched upwards with a smirk, leaning closer to the blond.

"Don't be so smug, that's not what I meant." Emma deflected, waving her hand dismissively at him. She grabbed the bottle of rum, refilling their glasses. "I'm not going to be able to stand after this." She commented, looking towards him from the corner of her eyes.

"Maybe I don't want you to stand." Killian scooted his chair closer to her, his hand catching hers as it reached for the glass. "Are you as drunk as I am?" He questioned, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip to wet it as he eyed her curiously.

"I think I am." She leaned closer, so close that he could feel her breath dancing over his lips. "I also think that we're alone… here in your Captain's quarters… and I think we've been dancing around this for long enough." The rum had made her loose, free to say what she'd thought, but never been able to say.

"I didn't know you felt so passionately about this, Swan." Killian flashed a smug, yet lazy, grin at her. His blue eyes, hazy from alcohol, now seemed hazy from something else – lust.

"I think," Emma leaned closer, lips almost grazing his, "if I'm going to let you fuck me, you're going to have drop the Swan bit."

"Emma." He rasped out, his fingers tangling in her blond hair, cupping the back of her skull. He held her firmly, eyes flickering from lips to eyes and back again. "Are you going to call me Hook? Or are you going to remember my name?"

"I can't remember it." Emma teased, biting down on the corner of her bottom lip. Her lashes fluttered and she looked up at him from beneath them. Tomorrow she would regret this.

Killian tilted his head, narrowing his eyes, "I intend to have you crying out my name by the end of this night. You better remember it then." That promise sent a shiver down her spine and intensified the heat between her legs.

"I think you're all talk." She retorted, releasing her bottom lip as she ghosted her hand over his shoulder and down over his chest. "I don't think any of that's going to happ-" Emma was cut off midsentence by him as he slanted his lips over hers – hard. The kiss left her breathless. He left her breathless.

"Get up." Killian ordered as he pulled back from her lips, his eyes searching hers, darkened by the same desire mirrored in his gaze.

"Where do you want me Captain?" Emma flicked her tongue over her bottom lip, tasting the rum that his lips had left on hers. She rose slowly, holding onto the table for support as the alcohol hit her.

"I think you know where." Killian chuckled, watching her as she stepped towards him, resting his arms on either side of his chair. His limbs felt weighted by the rum, his movements and reactions delayed. Both his desire for her and the alcohol making his skin burn hot.

A soft groan passed his lips when she straddled his hips, making his heart jump in his chest. "Fuck." His eyes fluttered closed, trying to keep his breath calm as she slowly rocked her hips downwards against him.

"Is that where you wanted me?" Emma questioned, sliding her hand along his shoulders, a teasing smirk on her lips. Despite the layers of fabric that separated him, her movements against him was just the right amount of friction to stroke the heat that boiled beneath her skin.

"Yes." He growled, his lips finding the tender skin of her neck, sucking not so gently over her pulse point. Killian rested his hand on her hip, guiding her movements and meeting them with little upward rocks of his hips.

"Hook." She moaned, a smile on her lips – knowing that it wasn't the name he wanted to hear.

Killian growled again, his teeth grazing her skin. "I hope you didn't like this shirt." He smirked, tugging sharply at the back of the shirt, pleased to hear the tearing sound that followed. His lips found her shoulders, trailing kisses along the newly bared skin, his arm curling around her to draw her closer, causing that delicious friction where their hips were pressed into each other.

"Not overly." Emma gave a breathless laugh, her back arching, meeting the edge of the table as she watched his lips trailing over the rises of her breasts. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her breath coming out in uneven puffs. Her skin, even bared now, felt like she was on fire.

Her fingers wound through his dark hair, tugging at the strands as they slipped between her fingers. She hadn't stopped with the slow grind of her hips, causing little whimpers to escape her lips every time he rolled his hips upwards, pressing into her deliciously.

If alcohol hadn't been involved, this wouldn't have happened – at least not so soon, so freely, so easily. But she wanted it. She'd wanted it for some time, but she hadn't known how to approach it, without it being just another failed attempt at finding what she craved. But Killian wasn't like the others; he wasn't the same sort of man.

"You're too dressed." Emma drawled out, biting down on her bottom lip as she met his eyes. "I think you need to lose the shirt."

"I think we both need to lose everything." Killian's fingers trailed over the straps of her bra, sliding them down her shoulders. "This definitely needs to go."

Emma flexed her back, reaching behind her to unsnap the hooks and letting it slide down off. "Better?" She quipped, her eyes narrowing as his hazy blue ones met hers. "However, if I'm going to get these off, I need to get up."

"That's unfortunate." Killian rolled his hips upwards again, smirking when her lips formed a silent 'oh', her eyes fluttering closed. "I thought you were getting up."

"I was." Emma managed, pushing up on his shoulders to get off of him. "Until you did that." She shivered as the cool air of the room brushed against her skin, doing nothing to cool down the heat that she felt.

She was going to regret this in the morning. But right now, she loved it. There were no walls, only the raw desire that ebbed and flowed between them.

Emma fumbled to remove her jeans, struggling with the zipper and the button that were just too difficult to operate while inebriated. She was jealous of how easily he stripped his shirt from his chest, working to skillfully unlace his leather trousers, exposing himself to her.

She swallowed thickly as her eyes travelled upwards, moving towards him again, prepared to straddle him once more.

"Wait." Killian raised his hand, standing up before her. "I don't feel like either of us are coordinated enough to make that work." He gestured back towards the chair, before his attention was solely on Emma. "My bed's not too far away." He stated, stepping closer to her, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Aren't you a gentleman, offering a lady the bed." Emma teased, her lips parting as he leaned closer, rising up to meet his lips in a slow, exploratory kiss. The rum slowed their movements, making them drag on, seemingly, forever. He backed her up slowly, his hand on her hip to keep her from falling – or perhaps to steady himself. She'd damn well drank him under the table, holding her rum as well as he had held his. Maybe better – but she'd never know that.

The backs of her legs met the edge of his bed and they both tumbled when she lost her balance. Her back hit the bed and his weight collapsed above her, but it felt just right.

"Oh." She breathed out, hazy eyes meeting his as he tilted his chin to kiss her. She slowly spread her legs, letting his hips rest between them, her legs curling around him, drawing him close. He was pressed against her, every slow grinding movement he made, stroking the fire he'd been teasing for what felt like hours.

"Do you want this Emma?" He questioned, growling against the curve of her neck, his forearm resting beside her to hold him up as his other hand curled at her hip, holding her steady as he ground against her.

Emma gasped when his movements pressed him right there, right against the sweet spot that he'd been missing every time. "Yes."

"Say my name then."

"No."

His hips stilled, his weight shifting as if he were pulling off of her. She tensed, expecting him to suddenly pull away, but that wasn't what he was doing. She cried out as his hips slammed against hers, finally taking her, finally making her his – if only for tonight. "Killian!" She couldn't hold back, the name that tumbled from her lips had always been right there, ready to escape, ready to call him by the name that she'd already been calling him in her dreams.

Killian slanted his mouth over hers, keeping her as quiet as he could. They didn't need her parents rushing in, thinking he was killing her if she cried out too loud. He wouldn't be interrupted. Even drunk he knew this could be their only chance. When tomorrow came it would only be more difficult. Sorting through feelings, desires, emotions, needs that they didn't understand.

But they understood now. With their guard down, desires fully bared, they understood each other. Truly understood each other.

There was no way to pretend that it hadn't happened. His fingers left small blueish bruises on her hips, her nails leaving scratches down his back, his stubble left red marks along her throat in plain view, lips bruised from teeth and lips. They weren't gentle. That wasn't how they were. They didn't need to be coddled, they didn't need to be treated like they were breakable. They were broken, they'd been broken a long time ago, but that wasn't what this was. It wasn't even healing, it wasn't mending. It was making do with who they were, what they'd been through, taking the bad and savoring and making it their own. They'd been bruised and bloodied before, both literally and figuratively – and the damage they dealt to each other was a hell of a lot better than anything they'd known before. Because underlying, beneath the rum, the heated skin was always there. They couldn't deny it forever.