[ it's a power play, as much as anything with them is. a game of who can hold more back, and who has to be the one to give.
emma likes to think that hook's desperate pawing means she's winning.
or, she is until a groan slips out when her hips press to his. she can feel the evidence of his arousal pressed between them, and she leans in closer, her forehead leaning against his, as she catches her breath. it takes only a second before she's crushing her lips to his again. her thumb presses against his throat, dragging down the center of his adam's apple.
there's hesitance in how her hand slips away from the move to choke him, and rests instead at the side of his neck. it's an inch she's giving him, but it feels rather like a mile. she won't pull him into her arms, won't cling to him because it'll only make it harder when he leaves (and he will leave).
her other hand moves to tear open his shirt, sliding down into it and popping the buttons off rather than taking the time to unfasten them. ]
no subject
emma likes to think that hook's desperate pawing means she's winning.
or, she is until a groan slips out when her hips press to his. she can feel the evidence of his arousal pressed between them, and she leans in closer, her forehead leaning against his, as she catches her breath. it takes only a second before she's crushing her lips to his again. her thumb presses against his throat, dragging down the center of his adam's apple.
there's hesitance in how her hand slips away from the move to choke him, and rests instead at the side of his neck. it's an inch she's giving him, but it feels rather like a mile. she won't pull him into her arms, won't cling to him because it'll only make it harder when he leaves (and he will leave).
her other hand moves to tear open his shirt, sliding down into it and popping the buttons off rather than taking the time to unfasten them. ]