Self Promo Sunday: “The Sweetest Treat”
While I realize that Halloween has passed and this one is somewhat Halloween-themed, I still wanted to re-run this and next week’s story here with the Fall season. I hope you will still enjoy if you give them a read. This one is a post-season six canon divergent fic, imagining all the lovely domestic stuff we might have gotten had we seen everyone stay in Storybrooke. Hope you enjoy!! :)
Originally, this was written as a gift for @kmomof4 on her birthday some years back, and in trying to give her the smuff she deserved, it is about as close to an M rating as I had gotten at the time; definitely a hard T, if nothing else...
Summary: After Storybrooke’s first Harvest Day Festival winds down, Emma has a sweet and sultry surpise in store for her pirate husband.
Also can be found on AO3, if you prefer...
“The Sweetest Treat”
by: @snowbellewells
The cider had been drunk, the campfire had burned down, and the last hayride had finished. All of the town’s children and adults who had packed Anton’s field where the First Annual Harvest Day Festival was held had dispersed, moving toward their homes in the October night air. Emma Swan-Jones is not far behind the rest of the satisfied revellers, pausing only briefly to make sure that her mother doesn’t need any more help securing things for the night. Even at that, her hand doesn’t leave her husband’s, their fingers linked together warmly as he gladly follows her to speak with her mom - the newly re-elected mayor of Storybrooke.
David gives his daughter and son-in-law a warm smile as well as he hefts one more hay bale over the tailgate and into the bed of his truck, then comes to join their huddle just as Snow answers, “No, don’t worry about the rest of it. Final clean up will keep until tomorrow when it’s light out. Are we still meeting for brunch at Granny’s?”
Killian glances quickly over at his wife, affirming without need of words that their earlier plans are still agreeable to his lovely Swan, before answering his mother-in-law jovially. “At present, I cannot imagine my gut being able to hold anything more, Milady, but aye, we will be there.”
The intended ruler of the Enchanted Forest, now three-time mayor of their vibrant hamlet, laughs aloud at his words, her nose crinkling as adorably as her daughter’s with the happy action - even as she swats at him in jest, shooing them both off toward home with a parting shot of, “Please! Spare me! You never look as though you gain an ounce, Sailor - despite the mass quantities of sugar I’ve watched you put away.”
His wife disloyally guffaws so loudly at that, Killian looks down at her surprise, her cheeks flush merrily from the recent heat of the bonfires, the mulled cider spiked with rum they’ve both imbibed, and a bit of embarrassment and humor both from her outburst.
Waggling an eyebrow at her salaciously, Killian and Emma both bid her parents goodnight and turn to meander home happily. Emma leans into his side with lazily relaxed ease, and Killian wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer still. He whispers as they gain enough distance from David and Mary Margaret, “You seem in awfully good spirits tonight, Love,” his voice reverberating low and and tickling against her neck. “Perhaps I should get you home quickly and use it to my advantage.”
Emma merely tilts her head up to meet his seductive gaze, biting her lower lip temptingly and batting her eyes, “Mmm,” she hums in the back of her throat, “perhaps you should.”
There is a decided increase of speed in their steps as they follow the streets toward their house by the water. Even as they move further from the center of town, they can hear voices calling out in the night as folks bid each other good evening before parting ways and excited children begin to recount for their parents the things they’ve seen and games they’ve played. They see Marco dutifully helping Granny gather up the luminaries which had lined the walk to the diner, Frederick taking his wife Kathryn’s hand as he cradles their little boy in his other arm where he had fallen asleep against his father’s shoulder, and with a smirking nod, Killian makes sure Emma catches a glimpse of Leroy escorting Astrid back toward the small cottage she and Tink now rent together near the school. Together the awkward, but sweet, pair disappear around the corner and out of sight. All in all, the night has been a rousing success; all that Snow had hoped as she hatched the idea months ago and planned and prepared for the last several weeks.
They soon reach their own front walk, and Emma’s seemingly languid and sleepy haze dissipates as they pause on the porch and Killian fishes for his key. A mischievous grin quirks her lips and trouble sparks in her eye as she leans forward to grasp the lapels of the red-orange-and-brown-checked flannel she’d bought him for the Festival and pulls him down to her anxious lips. The kiss tastes of apple and butterscotch, tinged with rum and the hint of salt from the fire-popped corn, and Killian sighs at the deliciousness of it - right in every possible way.
When they part, panting, foreheads still pressed together, Emma winks at him before prodding huskily, “Let’s get inside already before we give some stranger a show.” Pressed up against their front door as he is by her warm, delicious body, Killian is loathe to move, but his lovely wife is right. The sparks flying back and forth between them would rival the huge bonfire that had lit up the whole town square not an hour ago, and if they don’t get indoors soon, he hardly feels he should be held responsible for his actions.
“Emma love,” he purrs against the sensitive skin where her neck meets her shoulder, nose brushing over her skin until he feels her shiver in his arms. “Do you have some mischief in mind?”
She quirks a brow in playful challenge, skirting around him quickly to pull open the door and slip inside first with a squeal of glee as he whirls trying to catch her.
It isn’t long before he has her pinned against the wall in the entryway; kissing, mouthing, nipping along her collarbone, his tongue tracing, “Going to answer my question, yet, hmm?”
Breathlessly, Emma pants, half in a daze, green eyes glazed over, “Nothing a sweet tooth like yours won’t enjoy,” she finally manages cryptically.
Tilting his head curiously, Emma can see that her husband is puzzled by her words - as she meant him to be - even though he waggles his dark brows at her, smirking, “And just what is that to mean, wife?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she purrs, trailing a finger up his sternum to chuck him under the chin, then tugging at the top button of his shirt, adds, “Lose this, and wait for me in the dining room...maybe you’ll find out.”
Grinning devilishly, pleased with herself even as the black pupils widening with arousal to overtake the blue in his eyes makes her own pulse begin to speed up and thrum unsteadily, Emma saunters away from him with intentional extra sway in her hips and a teasing glance back over her shoulder before she vanishes into the kitchen. The way her husband visibly swallows hard, seeming completely gobsmacked, makes her plan (which is making her palms sweat with its daring) seem already worth it.
Once in the kitchen, Emma reaches into the refrigerator for the bottle she needs, hidden behind several other items so that neither her husband or son would find it first and use it up, then setting it on the table, begins to shimmy out of her jacket, jeans and top, mouth dry with both nerves and anticipation. Once she stands in the playful lingerie she’d picked for this very occasion - black boy shorts and a push-up bra, both with tiny candy corns and candy apples printed all over them - she blows out a tense breath, self-consciousness almost getting the better of her despite the fact that Killian has never made her feel anything less than beautiful. Smoothing a hand over her hair, Emma focuses on the adoring look her husband only gets in his eyes for her, and biting her lip, she picks up the container and goes to find him.
Stepping into the entryway from kitchen to dining room clutching the bottle of caramel sauce for dear life, Emma tries to strike a seductive pose, clearing her throat to gain Killian’s attention from where he stands leaning against the table, shirtless as she had instructed, but staring at his own feet, lost in thought.
At her entrance, his face snaps up to look at her, and his mouth drops open. The sight of him bare chested with his weather-browned skin covered in dark hair that accentuates his toned pecs and abs before trailing down into his jeans makes her previously dry mouth practically water. ‘ This will be fun,’ her mind cheers, even if she feels ridiculous at the moment.
“E-Emma...wh-what are you…?” Killian stutters as he struggles to ask her what she has in mind, but she shakes her head, stalking slowly toward him, and his words trail off in stunned awe.
Once she reaches him, Emma presses her fingers to his lips for a moment, smiling wickedly, “Just hold still, and you’ll see,” she directs, raising the bottle of sticky sweet topping to wave before his eyes, then upending it to squeeze a bit of the caramel onto her fingers before returning them to his mouth. “Here, taste.”
Killian’s eyes are blown wide as he opens and then sucks her fingers between his lips, his tongue caressing them as well, and making her breath heave despite her attempt to hold the upper hand. “Mhmm,” he hums, hands coming to rest on her nearly bare hips and pulling her closer, until she stands between his legs and his long, calloused fingers trace around to lightly clutch at the supple cheeks of her behind.
Seeing that she has him where she wants him, Emma holds the dispenser over his chest, squeezing more liberally to line caramel across her husband’s collarbones, and back to center, trailing it down his stomach to the waistband of his pants. She licks her tongue along his skin after savoring the taste of the sweet sauce and a hint of the salt from the sweat that has broken out over Killian’s body. His head is flung back and his chest is already heaving by the time she brings her tongue to swirl around his nipple and adds her teeth with a playful bite.
Letting out a guttural noise that Emma honestly isn’t sure she’s ever heard him make, Killian suddenly lunges forward and wraps her tightly in his grasp, and in the blink of an eye turns the tables on her. She got a bit engrossed in feasting off of his decadent body and forgot just how stealthy her husband can be. Before she knows what has happened, she’s lying with her back pressed against the table, her pirate leaning over her and encasing her there between his arms. Eyes alight, he leers down at her devilishly and works the bottle of caramel from her suddenly nerveless hand.
“Let’s see now, Swan,” he murmurs, adeptly drizzling caramel over her ribs and into her belly button before surveying her like some half-finished piece of living art. He slides his hook ever-so-carefully into the waistband of her festive panties before deftly slicing them and tossing the scrap away with a single flick of his wrist. “That’s much better,” he muses happily, tracing the curve of his metal appendage along the edge of her bra cup next. “Though these articles are quite humorously arousing, I believe I was the one promised a reward for my sweet tooth and yet you were having all the fun.”
By this point, Emma is trembling all over, every hair on her body standing at attention. Killian always manages to make her quake with desire using his hook to disrobe her, and the thrill of this different, wholly abandoned encounter is almost more than she can stand. Almost whining in eager appeal, she reaches for his waist, getting his jeans unbuttoned before he pushes her hands away. Though the jeans fall open to yield a heartstopping view, Killian doesn’t pounce on her immediately as Emma aches for him to. Instead, he shakes his head at her in mock chiding, “Ah ah ah, not so fast, wife. Not until I’ve had my taste.”
So saying, he trails caramel onto her inner thigh, along the joint where her leg meets her torso and then flings the bottle somewhere behind them, swooping in to devour her with his mouth. His tongue swirls around her nipples, laving and teasing as she had done to him, leaving her gasping for breath and vibrating like a live wire waiting for the final spark to set her off. His whiskered face tickles the skin of her stomach before his tongue dips into her belly button, making her hips desperately lift off of the table toward him until he pins them back down with hook and hand.
Luckily, before she can combust into a pile of ash, he finally moves in earnest, lapping along the crease at the top of her leg where he’d traced the sweet confection. He chuckles maddeningly against her quivering skin as she tries to buck in impatience, “Yes, Swan, you were right... delectable .” Then, without anymore hesitation, his tongue slides home, pillaging and plundering in earnest and setting her off like a bottle rocket.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They are a heaving, sticky mess of boneless limbs and sweaty skin by the time all is said and done. Cleaning the remnants of sticky caramel from each other in a steamy shower leads to more delicious mingling, and by the time Killian emerges, about five minutes after his insatiable wife, still toweling his hair dry, he is completely, pleasantly wrung out and utterly spent. Tossing the towel haphazardly toward the hamper, in a distinctly less neat than usual gesture, he pads across the carpet toward the bed, waiting only for Emma to return with the water she had insisted they both needed to drink to replenish themselves.
A few moments later, his wife appears in the doorway, two cold bottles of water in hand, and she steals his breath all over again. Clad in the flannel he discarded when they had first begun, and nothing else, her bare, shapely legs entice him all the way up to where the hem of his shirt stops, and her sated smile lights her whole face as she moves toward him across the room. The sight of his Emma wrapped in his shirt as she crawls into bed beside him is the sweetest treat he could ever receive.
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