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zaharadessert · 9 months

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Sacrificial Lamb

for CSSNS 2023

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: cultism, demons, kidnapping

Length: ~6k

Summary: Princess Emma of Misthaven's coming out ball does not go as expected

Notes: Thank you so much to @kmomof4 for both betaing and making me art! It's awesome! Also thank you to the @cssns mods for running this event again.

Tagging: @kmomof4 @teamhook @winterbaby89 @jonesfandonfanatic @undercaffinatednightmare @anmylica @elfiola @booksteaandtoomuchtv @tiganasummertree @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @myfearless-love @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart

Also on AO3

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Emma’s head felt foggy, and she was shivering with cold.

As she opened her eyes, they struggled to comprehend the space through the darkness around her.

She felt weak, as though she wasn’t in control of her own body, but she tried to sit up. The harsh wooden bench beneath her dug into her hips and snagged at the delicate white lace of her gown.

She blinked in confusion as her hair shifted around her shoulders. It had been coiffed to perfection, hadn’t it?

The last thing she remembered was dancing with the Captain of the Guard at her coming out ball…

But then the memories started to filter in.

The windows shattering and covering the entire ballroom with coloured glass.

Dozens of figures in black cloaks almost floating across the floor as they overtook the room. One, wearing a robe edged in gold, pushing through the main doors and making their way directly towards her. A hand flashing out to freeze everyone else where they stood. Her parents eyes darting frantically between them as they met in the middle of the room, Graham’s sword frozen in place, half drawn in her defence.

Her own magic sparking to life in her palms. And then…

Powder blown in her face, making her stumble and sway before her eyes fell closed and she hit the floor.

That was why the hard bench hurt so much.

She swung her feet to the floor, drawing them back from the cold stone with a hiss at the feeling of ice-cold stone beneath her feet. Her shoes had been removed, as had several layers of petticoats, causing the layers of skirt to tangle around her legs and making the material far too long. It was now nothing more than a cumbersome mess rather than an elegant sweep of fabric.

It was then, too, that she noticed the jangle of chains, connecting her feet to one end of the bench and her wrists to the other.

The echo of footsteps started to float through the air towards her, but she couldn’t tell from where.

She sat up on the bench as best she could, and concentrated on finding her magic so that she could free herself and get out of here before the men in cloaks- because she couldn’t imagine who else would be walking down here right now- came back.

But nothing happened.

She couldn’t feel anything more than an itch under her skin.

The footsteps got louder, closer, and Emma started to yank frantically at the chains.

With the nearing footsteps came a glow of light, illuminating a long rocky corridor with moisture glistening on the walls. It crept closer, highlighting the uneven walls and the hoods of the cloaks that bobbed as the people contained within walked.

She could feel panic start to rise in her chest, pushing away the remaining fog from the enchanted sleep the powder had put her into.

The light flickered and danced, torches held above the heads of the procession.

“What is the meaning of this?” Emma snapped as the figures started to surround her.

The figure in the gold-trimmed cloak walked right up to her, his face shadowed from view, but his hand reached out, fingers pale and cold as they clasped her chin, turning her face this way and that.

“Yes, the Demon we seek should be very pleased with you, Princess,” he said, his voice as cold as his fingers. “It will be a delight to watch him devour your virgin soul in return for the resurrection of the Dark One.”

Emma’s eyes widened in horror. She’d heard tales of the Dark One her whole life. Everything she knew about magic cast him as the cautionary tale in how high a price it required. She’d heard, too, about the cult that had sprung up in his absence, the men obsessed with returning Darkness to the realm.

“No!” she cried, pulling her face out of his grip and struggling against the chains once more, doing her best to summon her magic but only feeling a fire start to burn under her skin which made her cry out in pain.

“Your magic will do you no good down here. There is too much darkness, no true light can survive. Not for long, anyway.”

He flicked his hand at the chains, which released themselves from the bench. The ones attached to her ankles formed a shorter chain between them that would allow her to walk. The ones around her wrists snaked up over her shoulders and met around her neck.

The man pulled her to her feet by yanking on her arm which tightened the chain around her neck noticeably as she struggled to stand.

“You will walk.”

Emma scoffed. “To willingly assist you in returning Darkness to this realm? Never.”

Another twist of his hand and the chain between her wrists started to shrink, drawing her hands up towards her throat. The chain tightened around her neck, making her choke as she struggled to breathe. She could feel her eyes starting to bulge. Emma sank to her knees, clawing at her neck, and shivering even more as her head swam with dizziness.

Suddenly, the chains lengthened and she could breathe again.

“Do as you are told, and I’ll make this relatively painless. And the Dark One might even spare your kingdom for your assistance in his return. Get up.”

Emma realised that there was no way to fight this, not now. She would have to wait.

She struggled to stand. The long skirt of her dress, now wet with the damp filth from the floor, was heavy in her hands as she lifted it to allow her to walk.

Hands closed around her upper arms, guiding her through the torchlit gloom, preventing her from slipping on the slick ground.

They entered a chamber, rocky walls painted black with gold symbols, the same as adorned the hem of the golden edged cloak.

In the centre was a large stone altar, and Emma found herself lifted onto it, the chains at her wrists and ankles moving as commanded to secure her to it.

She struggled and cried out in protest but there was nothing to be done. The chill of the stone crept into her body. She could feel it sapping her strength and making it harder to concentrate on fighting what was being done, stealing away the hope in her heart.

All her parents had done to train her to protect herself, and… it was all she could do to lay there. Like the pathetic damsel in the stories princes and knights loved to tell.

Despair joined the fear encasing her heart as the cultists moved around her, painting more symbols on the floor.

Emma’s eyes flicked frantically around her, looking for anything to help her escape.

The cult leader arranged her dress- making the sleeves lie perfectly around the chains- splayed her hair around her head in a fan of gold, and smoothed down the wrinkles in the dirtied lace. Every time she tried to move the chains tightened a little more. He rounded the altar and stood by her head, drawing from the depths of his cloak a distinctive dagger, the edge curving wickedly like waves and held it over her body. He started to chant and she struggled against the chains until she couldn’t hold back the tears of pain any longer.

She let them fall, the heat of them almost burning her cold skin as she let out one desperate whisper as she closed her eyes.

“Please, help me.”

Emma didn’t know who she was asking or what the chanting around her meant. All she knew was that as much as she thrived on being able to save herself most of the time, she couldn’t help herself this time and her parents wouldn’t have any idea where she was. They’d been trying to rid the realm of the cult of the Dark One for years and they’d never found them. It was most unlikely they’d be able to do so now, even with the added motivation of finding her. They could still be frozen in the ballroom for all she knew.

She felt the soft, hot tracks of her tears across her face before they splashed on the stone.

Blinding pain radiated up her arms as knives sliced into her skin, burning as blood started to pour into the grooves on the table, staining her dress immediately as the tears, too, turned into a flood.

Emma screamed in agony and defiance.

But through the pain she felt a soft weight on her head and at her waist, a warmth gently passing over her hair.

“Fear not, My Queen. All will be well,” a voice like liquid velvet intoned softly next to her ear.

Her head started to swim as the blood drained out of her body, but with each weakening heartbeat, the hand on her head and at her waist felt more real.

“Can’t save…” she whispered back, shaking her head. “Dark One…” she tried again, needing him to understand.

“Isn’t that why you called on me?” the voice replied, and now she could feel breath across her shoulder and cheek as he spoke.

Emma forced her eyes to open and she looked up into brilliant blue fire. They were his eyes, of course, but in her drowsy state she could have sworn they danced with real fire. His gaze filled her with warmth, and she blinked lazily as she smiled up at him. She’d never looked into a face like his before and she found herself immediately entranced by his dark beauty.

The chanting stopped, and cries of joy rang against the walls instead.

“Who are you?” she breathed, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with fingers that almost burned her skin with their heat.

“Foul Demon, I have summoned you…”

The demon, Emma now had the wherewithal to notice the horns poking out of the top of his head, looked up at the cultist still holding the knife over Emma’s head.

“Who summoned?” he asked coldly, and Emma felt his thumb ghosting over the wound on one of her arms, could feel warmth creeping back into her limbs as her heart started to beat a little surer once more.

“We cast the spell, we sacrificed…”

“I think you’ll find it’s her blood on the table, but interestingly, it wasn’t that which summoned me.”

“I command you to resurrect the Dark One in exchange for this sacrificed soul!”

The demon sighed and looked down at Emma. “I’m sorry, My Queen. Explaining this gross incompetence might take a moment,” he told her apologetically.

“Can’t go anywhere…” She breathed sleepily.

The demon grinned roguishly, and with four deft flicks of his clawed fingers he shattered the chains holding her down, but Emma still didn't have the strength to move. The demon sat down on the altar beside her, his fingers now trailing over the wound on her other arm and healing that one, too.

“Now, I’ve seen some truly ridiculous cults in my time, but you lot? You really do take the biscuit,” he drawled. “Firstly, this altar accepts any liquid, and you let her cry, which hit the table before her blood. So. As you were intending to use the blood, she used her own tears to summon me. Secondly, if you’d wanted her blood to work you had to partake of it somehow, because even if her blood had worked to summon the demon you intended to summon, she’d still have had control over it. Lastly, and most importantly, you’ve ended up saddled with the demon responsible for condemning the Dark One to the deepest, darkest depths of hell where his mortal soul will face its darkest fears for eternity. So… do you really think I’m going to be the one to let him out? All in all, you’ve gone and fucked this up royally…” He glanced down at Emma and grinned. “With a very pretty royal, too,” he added, and she shivered as his eyes looked her over and part of her wished she had the strength to do something to hide herself. But then his gaze flicked back to the cult leader and darkened with anger once more, his casual, instructive tone fading into menacing darkness. “So, while I appreciate the effort to find me such a delectable offering, I’m afraid… You’ve hurt My Queen…”

Emma watched as demonic darkness overtook his features. His skin turned red and his eyes turned to flame and the reality of the world around them seemed to crack as he rose to his feet, growing in height, muscles bulging, forked tail whipping back and forth in anger as a language of darkness rolled off now black lips and tongue. The long coat he wore furled out into enormous black wings which sliced the two closest cultists in half, exposing his muscled chest and drawing her gaze despite her predicament. Flame speared out of previously nonexistent slices in the very air, wrapping around the cultists and setting them aflame as he sat up and grabbed the cult leader around the throat.

“So I’m afraid it’s your souls I’ll be consuming in her name.”

The man seemed to burn alive from the inside, screaming in agony until he exploded in a shower of embers that made Emma flinch.

The demon turned back to her, his features fading back to the handsome, tempting human she’d first seen when she’d opened her eyes.

She felt a sob of relief, of gratitude rising in her chest despite the fact that she was now slightly terrified of her saviour.

He settled himself back on the side of the altar and pulled her to him, cradling the back of her head and running his hand up and down her spine, his warmth seeping into her and bringing her back to shivering rather than weakly numb with the cold.

“Fear not, My Queen. You are safe now,” he said, soothingly.

For some reason, Emma believed him, and allowed herself to sob into his shoulder as she let the fear that had plagued her since the moment the windows in the ballroom shatter subside.

“What’s your name?” she asked quietly.

The demon seemed to stiffen in surprise.

“Demon or not,” Emma reasoned as she pulled back, “I should like to know the name of my rescuer so that he may be properly acknowledged.”

The demon looked suddenly unsure of himself.

“You may not think so kindly of me in a few moments,” he replied, sounding almost sad about it.

“You were part of the vanquishing of the Dark One, and you just saved me from helping bring him back,” she pressed.

“Aye,” he replied, his voice strained.

“There are conditions to your summoning that I am unaware of,” she replied. It was a statement, not a question and he nodded in confirmation.

“The altar may not be fussy, but I’m afraid Demonic Law is,” he replied carefully.

“You still need blood.” He nodded again but she sensed there was more. “My blood.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied again. And despite his being a demon, she believed him.

“So I still have to die?” she asked, shrinking back from him a little.

“Ay…” The response had been on the tip of his tongue, but he suddenly pulled back, rising to his feet and pacing.

Emma watched him curiously as he muttered to himself, reciting something in the dark tongue she’d heard him use before. The way his lips curled around the words made her squirm a little on the cold stone and she shivered once again, the absence of his heat allowing the chill of the stone to creep back into her bones.

“Apologies, My Queen,” he said briskly, returning to her side and encouraging her to lean against him.

“Emma,” she said with a sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder. “Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

“Ah, then… I daresay no one is going to like the alternative much better,” he said as his fingers trailed up and down her arm, making her hum in contentment. He smelled amazing, far more appealing than anyone- let alone a demon- had a right to. She let herself breathe it in, getting a little lost in it.

“What is it?” she asked. Her voice sounded dreamy and sultry, even to her own ears.

“Your Highness, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she asked, lifting her head to look into his eyes.

“Make it harder for me to not claim what I am owed without explaining myself first,” he managed to grind out through gritted teeth. There was no anger in his words, only a possessive spark in his eyes as he looked her over.

Emma straightened her spine, her eyes wide and startled as her breath stuttered in her throat. “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he replied with a warm smile. “The other option to spilling your blood and claiming your soul for hell now, since I have fulfilled the task you summoned me for, is to take an… alternative virgin blood.”

Emma felt her cheeks heat immediately with embarrassment and she looked away.

He hooked his finger under her chin, and looked into her eyes.

“I understand what this would mean in human terms, but you would need to understand this in demonic terms. We would be bound to each other. I would relinquish my immortal calling and live by your side as your protector and… lover… until your soul and your mortal body part ways. At which point, we will return to hell, and you are bound to me for eternity.”

He was being honest, that much she could tell.

“But that isn’t always the case, is it? I mean… don’t demons regularly defile virgins?” she asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend him.

He chuckled, low and deep and it rumbled in his chest making her breath catch.

“It’s complicated. But most cults realise that virgin blood simply means from a vessel that has never been used for a sacrifice before,” he explained.

Emma frowned, looking down at the hands clasped in her lap. “But then… my blood wouldn’t work that way, anyway.”

“Technically, their ritual was not completed so your blood remains viable. I could still just kill you. But Princess, you’re far too lovely to waste on such a thing when I can have you for eternity…” His tone was laced with hunger that made a shiver run down her spine. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her neck again and making goosebumps rise across her skin. “Let me seduce you, My Queen. I promise you won’t be disappointed in the result. We’ll rule your kingdom together, you light magic balancing out my darkness and when we get back to hell you can torture every soul who ever hurt those you care for into madness.”

Even his offer was seductive, and Emma’s eyes slid closed, her head tilting away from his, almost offering him her neck. His forked tongue flicked out to caress the shell of her ear and she gasped, her eyes snapping open as she pulled back just a little. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

“I smell good, don’t I? Your body knows what we could have. It’s a rare opportunity. Not everyone can even hope to make this attempt. You are unique, Emma. I can feel your soul calling out to mine and it’s taking everything in me not to claim it.”

She could feel it too, the want, the need to let him have what should have been promised to the prince of another kingdom. Something she should be guarding with more fervour than her own life. But who was there to stop her? There was no other heir to the kingdom, if she died today…

“My kingdom will need an heir,” she found herself muttering.

“Then we’ll give them more than enough to pick from,” he promised without hesitation.

“They’ll be… human?”

“As much as it matters. Like I said, my darkness and your light will create a balance within them. They will likely have magic as you do, and they may be stronger than other humans, live longer, I mean. But… is that such a curse?”

Emma absorbed this. Why she was asking him this, turning this into some kind of negotiation she wasn’t entirely sure, but here they were. She needed to think of her kingdom and not let the need singing in her blood overpower her just yet.

“Tell me your name,” she replied, looking up at him, determinedly.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not going to agree to eternity with someone who won’t even tell me their name,” she declared, almost haughtily.

“If I tell you my name…?”

Emma held his gaze, and smiled. It was small, almost seductive.

“Then I shall be yours. For eternity.”

“My name is Killian Jones,” he told her, in a way that suggested he hadn’t spoken it aloud in a very long time.

“Be gentle with me, Killian,” she requested, suddenly nervous.

With a groan, Killian hooked a finger under her chin once more and tilted her head up, bringing his lips to meet hers.

Emma felt a rush in the pit of her stomach as the warmth of his lips brushed hers and her eyes slid closed.

His hands moved to cradle her face, holding her exactly where he wanted her as his lips caressed hers, pulling back and changing angles, guiding her as his fingers threaded back into her hair. His lips peppered kisses across her cheek and down onto her neck.

Her eyes snapped open as she gasped at the sensation sparking through her entire body. Her hands curled around the lapels of his now returned coat, soft leather and velvet warm under her palms.

One hand moved around to her back, hand splaying across her spine and pulling her into his lap where she shuddered at the way his warmth seemed to wrap round her. Her own hand moved, threading into his hair, silky and soft and she pulled back a little to look at him again, breathing ragged, chest heaving, before she pulled his lips back to hers, moaning softly as he responded with a groan that made her core clench with need.

She kissed him harder now, taking back a little control and letting instinct take over.

The sticky dampness of her skirt forgotten, pain wiped from her mind, Emma kissed him like her life depended on it. He responded by holding her tighter against him and she could have sworn her skin was burning where the lace of her dress was thinner.

And then she felt calloused fingers on her back, not having noticed that he’d been undoing the delicate buttons down the back of her dress. She gasped as she pulled back to look at him, eyes wide and unsure.

“Don’t back out now, Darling. I don’t think I could restrain myself,” he said, his tone soft but his eyes full of dark promise.

Her core clenched again at his words. “I’m not, I…” she swallowed, trying to gather words that could explain. “Touch me more,” she requested, shyly.

“Gladly.” He grinned back at her.

A sweep of his arm and a twist of his claws tore the encumbrance of the sodden lace from her legs. Winding his other arm around her waist, he lifted her just enough that it slipped from her form and onto the floor, leaving her more exposed in front of a man that she had ever been in her life and she found herself revelling in the thrill of it.

He set her down so that she was straddling his thighs, exposing her and making her flush with excitement and self-consciousness in equal measure. His fingers barely grazed her thigh, but it felt like a spark of magic across her skin.

“More, My Queen?” he asked, and she could hear the smirk in his voice before she even looked up at his face.

The moment she met his gaze, his fingers started a teasing dance across her skin and she couldn’t help but moan, her eyes falling shut and her head falling back into his hand, just waiting to cradle her head.

“Such perfect, delicate skin…” he murmured, watching as his claws raised red lines on her pale flesh, and she whimpered at the hint of pain through the burning pleasure she was already feeling. His hand splayed over her thigh, gripping and squeezing as his other hand slipped down from her neck to continue to unbutton the back of her dress.

“That’s it Darling, let me hear you,” he murmured just before his lips found her neck once more. Kissing down towards her collarbone, his pointed teeth grazed her skin, always followed quickly by the soothing heat of his tongue.

And Emma gladly sang the pleasure of it towards the ceiling of the dim cavern, moans and cries and gasps spilling from her lips until the dance of his fingers ran through the slickness between her legs. Her hand twisted in his hair, making him hiss in pain and growl, delivering a slightly sharper nip to the skin of her shoulder.

“I won’t be able to be gentle with you if you can’t reciprocate, Darling,” he told her, firmly, speaking right into her ear and nipping at her earlobe.

Emma responded with a moan and a roll of her hips that had his fingers brushing that spot again. “Killian, please,” she whimpered.

“Do you really think I’m going to stop?” he questioned with a chuckle. “Oh, Princess, you have no idea just how much I have in store for you.”

“Show me,” she replied breathily.

“As you wish…” That was all he said before his head dipped, his teeth catching the neckline of her dress and twisting his head to tear the lace and the silk chemise from her chest, exposing her corset.

Emma shivered as the cool air of the cavern hit her skin, but the cold didn’t last for long as Killian’s lips found the tops of her breasts, kissing, licking, sucking and nipping as her chest heaved with panted breaths and the fingers below started to caress in earnest.

Her hips rolled into his fingers, her back arched to bring her chest to meet his mouth and the angle caused her corset to slip just enough that the next sweep of Killian’s tongue wrapped around her nipple.

Emma bucked in his arms, and as he growled with want, his assault of pleasure on her body was renewed. He seemed intent to torment her with it, to ensure that she thought of nothing else ever again other than the next time he could put his hands on her body.

With every sweep of his tongue or caress of his fingers, Emma was sure this was it, that it could not get any better. But with every frantic beat of her heart, he proved her wrong. She was babbling incoherently while he murmured encouragements into her skin. Emma didn’t think she would ever tire of hearing his velvety dark voice telling her how beautiful and perfect she was, that she was made for this, for him. He was relentless and determined, and she didn’t care how wanton she might look, all she wanted was for him to keep going, to drive her higher, to…

“Come for your demonic prince, My Queen,” he commanded, his lips just below her ear, pressing a kiss to her pulse point before dropping back to wrap around her nipple, sucking hard as his tongue flicked over it just right.

And then her whole body seemed to freeze in place, stars dancing behind her eyes as her muscles started to tremble and he pulled her more securely into his arms, his lips now caressing her hairline, his murmurs calming, soothing, reassuring.

She let herself breathe into his neck, shallow breaths coming out on satisfied hums as each muscle in her body seemed to relish in the slow drift back from the peak of her pleasure.

“That was…”

“Remarkable to behold, but we’re far from done,” he promised.

“I’m not that naive,” she protested, pulling back to frown up at him. Okay, so she’d never been told details, but animals did the deed, too, and…

“Is that so?” he asked with a raised eyebrow that made her eyes narrow even more. “Then would you like to tell me what I plan on doing with my tongue, next?”

Emma flushed scarlet and dropped his gaze. With a soft chuckle he hooked a finger under her chin once more and made her look into his eyes.

“I’m going to lick your pussy clean, and then I’m going to make a mess of you all over again,” he promised, his hand dropping from her chin to press the fabric of her dress into the wetness still dripping from her.

Emma whimpered, her eyes sliding closed and blushing even harder.

“Fuck, you’re so responsive,” he praised, pressing a kiss to her lips. “It’s intoxicating.”

“Am I?” she murmured back, her lips blindly chasing his for another kiss.

“Let me taste you, Emma,” he replied, nudging her nose with his own before capturing her lips again. His tongue pressed them apart to caress hers and she welcomed him into her mouth with a moan.

“I take it that’s not how you meant?” she queried when he ended the kiss with a soft peck to the tip of her nose.

He shook his head with a salacious grin. “Lie back for me.”

Emma looked over her shoulder at the stained and bloody table before looking back at him.

But it seemed she didn’t even have to voice her discomfort at that idea, and with a roll of his shoulders, the leather vanished from under her fingers and was once again transformed into wings which curled around her and easily took her weight as she sank back into their warmth with a hum of contentment.

The intensity with which he looked down at her was like nothing she’d ever experienced before and it made her blush.

He grinned. It was toothy, and hungry and it was only a moment before he leaned in, pulling the soiled white dress from her body as he kissed his way over each revealed inch of skin. He pushed apart her bare thighs and she squirmed under the heat of his gaze as he licked his lips salaciously before lowering his head, his eyes meeting hers as he brought his tongue to her core.

It was Emma that broke eye contact with him as her back arched with pleasure and her eyes closed with the potency of it. The heat of his tongue was like nothing she’d ever imagined. The graze of his fingers on her thighs was intoxicating. She could feel the vibrations of words she couldn’t hear through the rush of blood in her ears, could feel the hoarseness of her voice increasing with cries that she couldn’t comprehend.

He built her up quicker this time, the feelings so overwhelming she could feel her consciousness wavering. She could feel herself teetering on the brink of an abyss that part of her longed to welcome, but he kept licking, caressing, sucking on her until she came back to herself with another wave of pleasure as he shifted above her. His mouth found hers, kissing her hard and then she became aware of a slight burn and pressure down where his tongue had been.

Her eyes snapped open as she squeaked with the discomfort, building towards pain. “Relax, My Queen, the pain will be over soon,” he purred into her ear. “Let it happen,” he encouraged, his fingers finding her clit once more and making her back arch.

She felt him slip further in, and then something inside her seemed to break and she cried out at the sensation. She didn’t know if it was pain or pleasure in that moment but she had never felt so full.

Above her, he let out a strangled groan, his muscles tense as his eyes fell shut for a moment before they snapped open, burning with blue fire once more.

“Mine,” he growled.

“Yes,” she choked out. “Killian…”

He kissed her again, and started to move. It burned slightly, but with each thrust of his hips the discomfort turned to pleasure and she found herself moving with him, meeting his hips with her own as her legs curled around his waist.

He littered her neck with kisses and nips as she cried out his name into the darkness around them. She embraced the peak of her pleasure once more, fingers tight in his hair, lips sealed against his as she tried to keep herself moving for him, so that he could finally join her.

“This will be a little hot…” he warned as his thrusts sped up, hips stuttering a little before Emma felt a rush of heat inside her. It was strange, but she fell in love with the feeling, knowing she would want more of it before long.

“I feel so…” she started, searching for the right word to convey everything. There would never be anything like this, wrapped in his arms, filled with his seed, feeling his breath across her neck. “Complete,” she settled on.

Killian raised his head and smiled down at her, brushing his nose against hers.

“Incredible,” he murmured, shifting to pull out of her. Emma felt the flood of his spent leave her body and he glanced down, shifting his wings to let the mix of his cum and her blood fall onto the altar. “And now all immortal planes are satisfied, as well as us,” he said, looking back up at her.

With the sweat cooling on her skin, Emma felt suddenly self-conscious and looked away.

“Regretting me already, Princess?”

Emma’s eyes snapped back up to his face, to find disgust starting to settle in his features. She reached up and brushed the tips of her fingers across his brow.

“No, I… I’m sore… and almost naked with a demon, and… I don’t know what to…”

“Your demon,” he corrected, a hint of a smile starting to curve at his lips. “We can be completely naked, if you would prefer? Or maybe you’ll make me wait for a human wedding night to have that final prize?” he teased, making her blush all over again.

“I can’t go back home without a corset. I’m already severely lacking in the rest of my attire,” she reasoned, embracing the chance at levity.

“Well, for the moment, that is a sacrifice I am happy to watch you endure,” he commented, taking a good look, his fingers tracing the edge of her corset.

“You’re incorrigible,” she commented with a sigh. “But I really would like to get out of here if that’s all the same to you.”

“We’ll find you some clothes on the way out.” He offered his hand to help her sit up, gathering her into his arms.

“Just get me out of here, and I can summon something from home,” she said with a smile as she laid her head against his chest.

“As you wish, My Queen,” he replied as he stood from the altar, wings melting back into his leather coat. Shadows curled up around them as the cavern melted away, but even once they were out in the open again, there was no chill strong enough to reach her. Not with her demon by her side.

#captain swan #cssns23 #zaharadessert writes #demon killian #princess emma #art by krystal

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zaharadessert · 11 months

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"Window Seat" by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan Rating: General Word Count: 3K Summary: Emma's son, Henry, befriends the man sitting next to them on an airplane- and Emma is impressed by how well the stranger bonds with him. Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, one shot, captain cobra swan Author’s notes: I've always loved interacting with children. They speak genuinely, they love life, and they ask questions that aren't (usually) too hard to answer. When I was flying back from my last vacation, I sat next to a four year old girl who was an absolute delight to talk with. (She once had a dream about zombie turtles! She invited me to play with her dollhouse sometime! She said the Obi-Wan keychain on my backpack looked like a monkey!) By the end of the flight, even though I'm six times her age, we considered each other friends. This fic is inspired by kids like her. Taglist:@zahara@kmomof4@jonesfandomfanatic@booksteaandtoomuchtv@jrob64@tiganasummertree@anmylica@teamhook@undercaffinatednightmare@gingerchangeling@lonelyspectator@caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

Emma held her son's hand firmly as she walked to the back of the plane, trying to find their seat numbers. Navigating an airport was hard enough as is, but bringing a four year old boy with you makes it even more difficult, especially when you're managing him on your own.

Fortunately, though it hardly felt that way, Emma was used to taking care of her son by herself.

"Are we almost there?" Henry asked.

"Our seat numbers are 83D and 83E," Emma said, "And here's number 80, 81," she counted and pointed them out to her son, "82, 83."

"That's us!" Henry said.

"Yup," Emma said, "your seat's the middle one in this row."

She helped Henry take off his backpack and put it under the seat in front of him, then they both took their seats as Henry, in spite of being warned many times about strangers, introduced himself to the passenger next to him.

"Hello!" Henry said.

"Hello there," the man said, "looks like we're traveling buddies today."

Emma had been distracted by switching her phone into airplane mode, but when she heard the stranger's accent, she looked up to see if his appearance was just as attractive- and was delighted to find that it was.

"Have you ever been on an airplane before?" Henry asked him.

"Quite a few times," he said.

"Are you going to grampa's birthday party too?" Henry asked.

"I'm afraid not," he shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Well for one thing, I wasn't invited," the stranger gave a good natured smile, "and another, I've never met your grampa."

"My mom and I can introduce you!" Henry said, pointing at Emma, "and you can come with us."

"Henry," Emma interrupted, "let's buckle your seatbelt, okay? And don't pester this nice man with so many questions; he probably wants to just take a nice, quiet flight to Maine."

The reason Emma wanted Henry to keep quiet wasn't solely out of decency towards the other traveler, and it wasn't of a motherly caution about strangers either. She'd be lying to herself if she said it wasn't borne of not wanting to annoy one of the cutest strangers she'd ever met.

"It's no trouble, really," he said, "I've never minded children; I was a camp counselor for quite a few years in my younger days."

"Henry'll talk your ear off if you let him," Emma ruffled her son's hair before adjusting his seatbelt.

"I don't take people's ears off!" Henry protested.

"It's one of those expressions," Emma explained, "it means you talk a lot."

"Oh yeah," Henry said, then turned back to the stranger, "are you friends with my mom?" The man looked up at Emma and smiled, his eyes a deep and overwhelming blue.

"I don't know. I haven't met her yet," he said, not taking his eyes off her, "but maybe by the end of the flight we will be."

"I'm Henry," Henry piped up.

The stranger looked back down at Henry and held a hand out to him. "Pleasure to meet you Henry," he said, "my name's Killian."

"I'm Emma," Emma said.

"What a lovely name," Killian smiled.

"Okay, so he's a bit of a flirt," Emma thought, though she didn't stop herself from smiling at his compliment.

"Have you ever been on an airplane before, Henry?" Killian asked.

"Nope!" Henry said.

"Are you excited for your first flight?"

"Yeah!" Henry said.

Just then, the stewardess' voice came over the plane's speakers.

"Okay Henry," Emma whispered, "we have to be quiet now, okay?"

"Okay," Henry said.

He tried his best to sit quietly, but four minutes is an eternity when you're only four years old. Every now and then he'd start to ask a question, and Emma would remind him to be quiet- and once or twice he tried to ask Killian something, which led to a similar gentle reminder to be quiet.

Soon, they were allowed to talk again, and the plane began down the runway. Emma pulled a pack of gum out of her jacket pocket.

"Here, buddy," Emma handed Henry a stick of gum, "remember what I told you?" "That my ears will pop off if I don't eat it?" Henry asked, already putting the candy in his mouth.

"No, they'll pop," Emma corrected, "but the gum will help keep that from happening."

She took a stick of gum for herself, then held the package out to Killian. "Would you like one?" she offered.

"Thank you," he smiled, taking a stick of gum from the pack, "I certainly would hate for my ears to pop off."

Emma giggled a little- only half a giggle, almost more like an annoyed sigh, but a giggle nonetheless, and a smile along with it.

Henry was looking past Killian out the window, watching the runway as they drove across it.

"Why are we still on the ground?" Henry asked.

"It's like flying a kite," Killian answered, "you have to have a lot of room to run, so the kite is already moving fast before you let go of it, and then it gets into the air. The plane has to run really fast too."

"Cool!" Henry said.

They neared the end of the runway.

"Here we go," Killian said.

Henry let out a little squeal as the plane turned its nose up, and up they went. He looked up at his mom, and then at Killian, and then laughed a little.

"We're really high now!" Henry said.

"Indeed," Killian said, "look at the clouds!"

Emma looked out the window as well at the clouds, which were now next to, then below them.

Soon, the plane stabilized, and the stewardess announced they were free to roam about the cabin, if needed.

Henry continued asking Killian question after question, probably more questions than the stranger was in a mood to answer.

Emma pulled out her phone and opened Disney+, where she'd downloaded a few movies for Henry to watch on the plane.

"Here, kid," she handed Henry her phone, then grabbed his backpack to get his headphones out, "do you wanna pick a movie to watch?"

He looked at the downloaded titles- Treasure Planet, Peter Pan, Aladdin, and a few Lego Star Wars specials, before selecting Peter Pan.

"That's an excellent choice," Killian said.

"It's my favorite movie!" Henry said, as Emma put his headphones on his head.

"It's one of my favorites too," Killian said.

"Henry's been going through a bit of a pirate phase recently," Emma said.

"Ah," Killian nodded, "I take it you've watched Peter Pan a few too many times recently, then?"

"The things we do for our kids," Emma said, as Henry tried to lay down in his seat, resting his head in his mom's lap, incidentally kicking Killian.

"Here, move your feet, Henry," Emma said, trying to move her son's sneakers off Killian's pants.

"That's alright," Killian said, "I really don't mind."

Emma gave up the losing battle of keeping Henry's feet to himself.

"Do you have any kids of your own?" Emma asked.

"Oh, no," Killian half laughed, "but I remember what it was like to be a kid. I was a rather talkative lad myself, much like your boy."

Emma wrapped her arm around her son. "He's a pretty special kid," she said.

"His parents are very lucky to have him," Killian said.

Emma shook her head, "One of us certainly is."

Killian raised her an inquisitive eyebrow. "His father's not in the picture?"

"In the picture?" Emma rolled her eyes, "I wouldn't even say he's in the same gallery. He walked out before Henry even got to know him."

"Well, he's missing out on a charming family," Killian said, "from what I've seen, you've raised a great son."

"Thanks," Emma smiled, "I try my best."

"Well, if you ask me, you're doing great," Killian said, "it can be hard to raise a kid on your own."

Emma wrinkled her brow. "What do you know about raising kids?"

"I was on the other end of the equation," Killian said, "my mom raised three boys herself. My dad has been out of the picture since just before my little brother was born."

"From what I've seen, your mom raised a pretty good kid," Emma said.

"I try to be- my older brother was always the best of us though." Killian said, seeming a touch saddened, "he practically helped raise us. In my father's absence, he was the one who showed me how to be the man I am today."

"I'd say he did a pretty great job at it," Emma said.

"Indeed," Killian said, "I wish I'd told him that more."

Emma wasn't sure why that question was so solemn, or why it was past tense, and was unsure how to ask what he meant, so she waited for him to follow it up.

"He passed away this past week," Killian said, "that's why I'm on my way to Portland."

"I'm so sorry," Emma shook her head, unsure how one could even begin to cope with that loss- if anything happened to one of her siblings, she'd be devastated.

"Thank you," he said.

"How're you holding up?" Emma asked.

"As well as I can be," Killian shook his head with a sigh, "it's a weird feeling, really. He's just always been there, and now… now he's not. I used to say I didn't know what I'd do without him, and now- now I get to figure it out."

"I'm so sorry," Emma said, "I can't imagine what this must be like for you."

"I'm getting by," he said, "that's how you have to make it in this world, isn't it?"

"You got that right," Emma said.

"And being distracted from it helps," Killian said, "which is why I was delighted to have a seat next to your charming little chatterbox."

Emma looked down at Henry, who had fallen asleep before the characters in his movie even made it to Neverland.

"Seems the lad's a bit tuckered out," Killian said.

"After the TSA line we went through and waiting two hours in a terminal at seven a.m.?" Emma asked, "I'm surprised I'm not 'tuckered out' myself."

"Me too," Killian said.

"He sure is excited to get to meet his grandparents," Emma said, stroking her son's hair a few times.

"He hasn't met them before?" Killian asked.

"We've called them once or twice, had a few video chats," Emma said, "but the trip from Tallahassee to Maine isn't one I can shell out very often. My dad insisted on seeing his grandson this weekend though- it's the only thing he wanted for his birthday, to have the whole family together."

"How precious," Killian said, "your folks must be so excited."

"It's all my parents have been able to talk about for the last year," Emma said, "my brother and sister both still live in the area, and they said Dad's more excited than they've seen him in years."

"Does all your family live in Maine?" Killian asked.

"Pretty much," Emma said.

"Then what brought you to Tallahassee?"

"Doesn't matter anymore," Emma said, "because I didn't find it."

"Then why are you still there?"

"I've never been one to stick around the same place too long," Emma said, "but that's no life for Henry. He needs roots."

"I see," Killian said.

"I take it your story's not much different," Emma suggested.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"You're flying all the way from Tallahassee to Portland for a funeral," Emma said, "what's keeping you down there? Job? Friends? Girlfriend?"

She hoped it wasn't the last one.

He smiled, "Don't have a girlfriend, and friends are few and far between. I do quite enjoy the weather down south though, as well as my job."

"What do you do?" Emma asked.

"Captain of an authentic tallship," Killian said, "The Rolly Joger, a magnificent vessel- one of those little three-hour tour tourist traps."

"Oh, that's so fun," Emma said, "Kind of like a real pirate." She patted her son's head, watching on the phone screen in front of him as Captain Hook's crew sang a little shanty.

"Aye," he smiled, "once or twice she's even been booked for 'pirate parties,' where the kids all come dressed as pirates."

"Oh, that sounds so fun," Emma said, "I wonder if Henry might like something like that for his birthday in a couple months. He's never been on a boat before either."

"Well, you're always welcome onboard The Rolly Joger," Killian said.

"We might just take you up on that," Emma smiled.

"And what did you say do you do for a living?" Killian asked.

"I work for Yellow Bug Bail Bonds," Emma said, "apprehending people who skip bail."

"Like a modern day bounty hunter?" Killian asked.

Emma laughed, "something like that."

"That sounds exciting," Killian said.

"It pays the bills," Emma said.

She wasn't sure what to say, and apparently he wasn't either, as they were both quiet for a bit.

Eventually, Emma pulled a book out of her carry on, not about to take her phone from Henry and risk waking him, but also not about to sit there doing nothing for the next few hours.

"What are you reading?" Killian asked.

"Oh, it's a book one of my friends is writing," Emma said, "he asked me to read through and give some feedback."

"What an honor," Killian said, "what's it about?"

"Some kind of historical fiction," Emma said, "fairy tale characters in the American Revolution, or something like that. I'm only a couple chapters in."

"Sounds interesting," Killian said, "I'll, uh, leave you to it."

"Alright," Emma said.

And even as she got lost in the world in her book, she found herself glancing more than a handful of times at Killian.

A couple hours later, Henry woke up, and after a "good morning, sleepyhead" from both Killian and Emma, she restarted his movie for him- and this time he watched without falling asleep. Emma continued reading her book, engrossed in the character developments her friend August had intricately woven into his story.

"Oh, Henry," Killian said, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention, "look at that view. You can see the plane's shadow on the clouds beneath us."

Henry took off his headphones and looked out the window.

"Woah!" Henry said, loud enough that Emma looked over as well- and she did so to see Henry throwing her phone and his headphones on the floor.

"Henry!" Emma said, reaching over to pick them up off the floor- which was difficult, with her seatbelt still buckled.

Apparently, Emma wasn't the only one who had a problem with seatbelts, because she looked back up to see Henry had unfastened his, and was now climbing onto Kilian's lap to get a better view out the window.

She was about to stop him, but she was taken aback by how Killian responded- after an initial second of confusion, he put a hand on Henry's shoulder in case of unexpected turbulence, then pointed out the shadow of the plane, and a few other notable clouds next to them, talking with the boy like he wasn't an outgoing child who'd just overstepped his bounds, but almost like an equal, one who'd done nothing wrong as well.

Something about the scene, and how the boys interacted, looked to Emma like something out of a storybook, or like the picture you'd find in the dictionary if you looked up the word "father."

Then, Killian helped Henry off his knee and back into his own seat, and rebuckled him, reminding him that while the plane was in the air, it was probably a good idea to keep your seatbelt on and stay in your own seat.

"I am so sorry about that," Emma said, then put a hand on Henry's shoulder, "Henry, you need to respect other people's space."

"No worries, Emma," Killian said, "it's the price of having a window seat, I suppose."

He didn't seem at all as embarrassed or annoyed with the entire ordeal as Emma was- and he then turned to Henry and added, "but not all strangers like it when other people get too close to them, Henry. It's a good idea to keep your distance from strangers."

"But you're not a stranger anymore!" Henry insisted, "I think you're my friend."

"Aye," Killian smiled, "I suppose I am."

"If you come to my house sometime," Henry said, "you can play in my fort with me. I can show you my Legos too!"

"If I ever do come to your house," Killian said, slowly, his words carefully selected, "I'd love to see your Lego sets."

"I just got a really cool Star Wars set," Henry said, "it has Luke Skywalker, and his X-Wing, and Artoo Detoo!"

"That sounds awesome, Henry," he said, "I hope I get to see it someday."

"Oh yeah," Henry said, "It's really cool."

"You know, I had some pretty cool Lego Star Wars sets back in the day too," Killian said.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah." Killian said, "I had this one set…"

As Emma watched Killian and her son talk about Lego Star Wars sets, she put away Henry's headphones and swiped out of the movie on her phone, sensing Henry might be entertained for the rest of the flight with his new friend.

Henry wasn't the only one entertained by Killian, though Emma's interest in him was for an entirely different reason.

Henry's father had left shortly after Emma's pregnancy, not ready for the commitment of raising a family. After that, Emma had decided that all she needed was herself and her son. Between finding her job and raising her son, she hadn't had time for a boyfriend anyways, at least that's the excuse she used when her friends asked why she'd never gotten back out there.

But deep down, Emma knew part of the reason she'd stayed single was Henry- any boyfriend for her was a potential father for Henry, and as rare as it was for her to find a date, it was harder to find a date who was comfortable with kids- and soon she gave up on dates altogether.

She and Henry had always been content just to have each other- but as she watched her son talk with this man about Star Wars, Legos, and pirates together, she realized how much both she and her son would benefit from a guy like him in their life.

As they walked off the plane, Emma and Henry stayed close to Killian, Henry still chatting away with him the whole time.

"Alright, Henry," Emma said, once they got back into the terminal, "I think it's time to say goodbye to Killian."

"Already?" Henry asked.

"I'm afraid so," Emma said.

Killian got down on his knees at Henry's eye level.

"It was a pleasure flying with you, Henry," Killian said, "I hope I see you again sometime."

"Me too!" Henry said.

Killian held out his hand to shake hands with Henry, but instead Henry ran to his arms and gave him a hug. Killian looked up at Emma for her approval, and she nodded, so he returned Henry's hug.

Once Killian stood back up, he held a hand out shake with Emma, and she half desired to respond the same way her son had. Instead, she took his hand and shook it.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Killian," Emma said.

"The pleasure was mine, milady," he said, and he then brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"I didn't know you were so old fashioned," Emma said, in a voice that said that wasn't a problem at all.

"I hope to see you again sometime?" he asked, letting go of your hand.

"Yeah," Emma smiled.

"Will you wanna come to my grampa's birthday party?" Henry interrupted.

Killian and Emma's eyes met, like the meeting between old friends.

"I don't believe I've been formally invited," Killian said, more like a question than an answer.

"I could send you the details," Emma nodded, "if I had your number."

"Yeah," Killian said, "I might be able to find time, uh, here."

He handed her his phone, open to the contacts app. Emma quickly typed in her phone number and handed it back to him, and she handed him her phone too.

"I'll text you later," she said, their fingers brushing against each other as she took her phone back from him.

"Aye," he said, "Can't wait."

"I'm really glad to have met you." Emma said.

"Me too," Killian said.

"Me too!" Henry said, "See you soon!"

Emma took Henry's hand again, glancing back at Killian quite a few times as they headed their separate ways.

"Mommy?" Henry asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you and Killian friends now?"

"Yeah, kid," Emma said, a smile spreading across her face, "I think we are."

#cs ff #talented shipmates #otherpeoplewrite #once upon a time fanfic

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