#The Arena

[gameraboy2]

Pam Grier in The Arena (1974)

[mockingjaysnakes]

MORE BTS FROM LUCY GRAY BAIRD.

[kmomof4]

The Arena A New Fic for CSSNS24

WE FINALLY MADE IT, Y'ALL!!!!! @cssns is here for the last time!!! And I am sooooo thrilled to be kicking off our final year!!! Before we get to the fic, I have to say a few words about the team of ladies that helped get this fic here for all of you to enjoy!!

First, to the other mods of the CSSNS - @winterbaby89 @stahlop @jrob64 and @ultraluckycatnd This event wouldn't be here without all of you and I cannot thank you enough for stepping up and helping me through this last round.

To @snowbellewells my magnificent beta for this fic - Marta, I cannot thank you enough for reading, rereading, and rereading AGAIN in order to make this fic the best it could be. Love you, my dear friend!!!

To @motherkatereloyshipper artist extraordinaire - Kit's artwork always leaves me with my jaw hanging open in AWE, and this one is no exception!! I could seriously stare at it for hours!!! Please give her all the love!!!! It's at the beginning of the fic under the cut.

And now to the fic! I so hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!!

Summary: The arena. 

A place of fear. Oppression. Blood. Death. 

A place of shattered hopes and dreams. 

A place, for a very lucky few, of hope. 

Words: Almost 3200

Rating: M for graphic violence

Tags: CSSNS24, Werewolves, True Love, Happy Ending

On ao3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza

@djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

@anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling

@caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite

@captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose

@thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones

@mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

The arena. 

A place of fear. Oppression. Blood. Death. 

A place of shattered hopes and dreams. 

A place, for a very lucky few, of hope. 

Killian Jones stood along the wall of the arena with his fellow fighters, his eyes trained on the opposite side of the stadium where the grand prize of the wretched and despicable contest he’d willingly signed up for was being held. The wretched and despicable contest that the despot Arthur had created for the entertainment of himself and his court, promising to the victor everything they could ever dream of - more money than they could imagine, a place in the upper echelons of society, land, and a beautiful bride on his arm. A bride that, in Killian’s fondest dreams, didn’t care he was missing a hand. But all of that was for the victor alone. There was no prize for coming in second, unless you counted death as a prize. 

And Killian did. 

Either everything he’d ever hoped for - but which was so far out of reach for a street rat like him - or bringing his miserable existence to an end. That was why he’d eagerly volunteered for the contest. That last sliver of hope his mother - gone for many years now - had instilled in him that his life circumstances had to get better, because they certainly couldn’t get worse, or the sweet oblivion of forever sleep.

He cut his eyes to the left for a moment, taking in his fellow competitors. He didn’t know any of them. The mates he’d trained with for the last year were long gone - scattered to the other corners of the empire to try their own luck in the arena. There were four other men here with him. The one immediately to his left barely looked to be a man at all, but he held a cunning and evil look in his eye that warned not to underestimate him. The man next to him was the largest of all of them with long curly black hair, bulging muscles, deep set dark eyes, and a closely trimmed black beard and goatee. The other two men on the other side of the large one, he’d only seen briefly as they were released into the arena. One was tall and skinny with blonde hair and a scar on his face that gave him a dangerous look, and the other had a mop of brown hair that flopped over his almost simian-looking visage and he held himself with an air of pretension and imperiousness. He’d fit right in with Arthur’s court. He’d probably been an upper house slave looking to be a master instead. 

Now, Killian’s attention was drawn back to the other side of the arena where two slaves were needed to get the young woman into the center of the sunken pit in which they were all held. She truly was a beauty, Killian could already tell, and a hellcat to boot. She wore nothing more than a torn and ragged gown that barely covered her most private parts and was nearly the same color as her skin and a thick silver bracelet on her wrist. Her golden hair was a nest of tangles but still glinted under the midday sun as she screamed and thrashed in their hold. Her legs alternately stuck out in front of her - her heels vainly attempting to anchor themselves into the soft ground - or dragged behind her in an effort to become deadweight and too heavy for the men to carry. When that wasn’t working, she kicked at her captors, clawing and biting every inch of bare skin she could reach.

They finally reached the center of the arena where they dropped her unceremoniously in the dirt. It took her a moment to rise to her hands and knees, then she raised her head and Killian could see her face for the first time. He caught his breath at the exquisiteness of her face, made all the more evident by the dirt and tear tracks which marred her otherwise porcelain skin. The color was high on her cheeks, and her lips were full and red. She wasn’t particularly far away from him, fifteen to twenty feet at most, but he couldn’t tell the color of her eyes from this distance and under the rays of the sun, although he could clearly see the glint of more unshed tears. 

Her gaze swept over the other men beside him before landing on him, and when their eyes met, something came over Killian that he hadn’t felt in over two decades- the wolf that he’d lost when he lost his hand as a lad. An utterly unfamiliar strength flooded him, and his ears rang with the internal howl of his other half as his heart and mind were filled with images of that fateful day.

Killian ran down the crowded streets of the marketplace, a dreadfully skinny boy, one hand holding up the too-large pants around his waist, lest they fall down around his ankles as he ran. His clothes were tattered and worn and hung off his scrawny frame. A boy on the cusp of manhood, his malnourishment was evident in his height, nearly as tall as a man, and the leanness of his face with the beginnings of scruff on his chin.

His eyes darted around the street, taking in the busy vendors with their customers and trying to determine who’d be least likely to notice a pilfered meat pie or a couple of pieces of fruit for himself and his mother. Spying a likely suspect, Killian never slowed as his hand shot out toward his prize. But the shopkeeper was much more aware than Killian had given him credit for, and before he knew it, his wrist was captured in an iron strong grip and he was being pulled behind the small booth.

Without a word, the hulking shopkeeper pulled out a cutlass and brought it down on Killian’s wrist. He was too shocked to even register the pain as he watched his blood gush from the end of his arm. Too mesmerized by the gruesome injury to do anything, he realized darkness was encroaching on the edges of his vision and the sound rushing in his ears was the agonized howl of his wolf - who had manifested only a scant six months ago - dying away to whimpers before everything went black.

It was nearly a week later that he’d woken, according to his mother. She hadn’t been far behind him as he ran through the market and had seen what the shopkeeper had done. She was too late to do anything about her son’s hand, but she’d made sure the shopkeeper would never be capable of such cruelty again. A small dagger coated with aconite from the Monkshood plant leaving a scratch across his wrist was all it took to sentence the man to death before the sun set that same day. She was the one who got him back to the hovel they called home, and nursed him around the clock until his fever broke and he finally awoke. He felt different - an emptiness he couldn’t define - but couldn’t put his finger on why until he looked down at his hands, now hand, and everything came rushing back. His shout of anguish brought his mother running, throwing aside the excuse of a room divider which consisted of a cord strung between two windows on either end of his straw pallet with clothes and rags hanging from it. She gathered him in her arms, whispering soothing words in his ear and rocking him back and forth like she did when he was a small child until his own cries quieted. 

Killian,” she breathed. He pulled back just enough to see her eyes and was shocked at the profound sadness he saw there. “I’m so sorry. Your wolf is gone.” She tried to gather him close again, but he pulled back in alarm instead.

“What?” he asked, confused. “Why!? Is that why I feel different? Not just my hand?”

“Losing a limb,” she imparted on a hitched breath, “kills the wolf inside of you. Until you find your True Love.”

“My True Love?” Killian’s confusion and grief were stronger than ever. “But what if I don’t have a True Love? What if…”

“You mustn’t give up hope, my son,” she said fervently. “You will find her someday, and your wolf will return.”

And today was apparently that day. Killian watched as her eyes widened slightly. He could only hope that she could somehow feel the connection between them. The hum of True Love that he didn’t have time to examine or revel in as Arthur rang the bell signaling the beginning of the contest - of which apparently his True Love was the prize. 

The other men along the wall moved toward her and then all turned to him, the depraved lust in their eyes as they looked at her turning into gleeful anticipation as their gazes settled on him. In that moment, Killian realized they’d somehow all agreed to band together to take him out first, obviously the weakest having only one hand with which to fight. Killian met each of their eyes in turn as they all drew their swords.

“It’s nothing personal, you know,” the tall, arrogant one said. “Can’t allow such an unsuitable, maimed cripple to claim my prize.”

The taunting words were all that was needed for Killian’s wolf to come to the fore. It had been twenty-two years since he’d transformed, but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember exactly what was happening. His own wicked but gleeful grin took over his face as the power of his wolf filled him and he fell to his hands and knees in front of them. The pain-filled howl taking over his mind ripped from his now open maw while the bones, muscles, and sinew in his arms and legs broke, tore, and mended again into their new form. The men before him were frozen in shock, and Killian became aware of an uproar above him among the spectators of the contest. Arthur rang the bell and screamed at the guards and slaves to kill the beast in the arena, but no one moved to do so.

Killian was fully focused on the men in front of him, but was also dimly aware of his True Love. She was still crouched on the ground, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. The transformation now complete, he let loose a full, ringing howl of victory as he leapt toward the largest of the men, still frozen in terror. His claws sank into the man’s chest, blood flowing like rivers down the expanse of bare skin. Killian clamped his jaws down on his head, his canines piercing bone, until with a powerful shake of his head, the skin of the man’s face and the bone underneath tore away from the skull, exposing the soft brain tissue contained within. The man’s screams were abruptly cut off when Killian swiped his claws from the gaping head wound to the top of his chest.

He then turned his attention to the two men on either side of his first victim. He quickly took care of the both of them - the first, ripping his head off with one swipe of his powerful paw, and the second, using all of his front claws to open his enemy’s chest cavity and gut, his intestines spilling to the ground in front of him - before he turned around looking for the one who’d taunted him in the first place.

The smugness was gone, but a look of grim determination had replaced it as the man, armed with only a sword, and wolf circled one another. The uproar among the audience had all but completely died away, the spectators watching in horrified fascination to see who would emerge the victor.

The man lunged and Killian backed up, well out of reach of the sword his opponent wielded. As they circled, Killian became fully aware of something that had only tickled the edge of his mind in the last several minutes as he faced off with the other men. He had both his front paws! Did that mean that his hand would also be restored when he returned to human form? He had no time to ponder the question as his adversary jabbed toward him again.

“Do you really think you can win?” he asked. His eyes gleamed, and the smugness that had disappeared after Killian killed the others was coloring his countenance once again. “You’re nothing but an animal. I’m going to kill you and skin you and hang your pelt on the wall where I can see it every single day for the rest of my life.”

Killian bared his teeth, a low and vicious growl coming from his throat before he surged forward briefly, snapping at the other man. Giving him a good look of exactly what he was up against. Fear flooded his adversary’s eyes, and the hand holding his sword in front of him began to shake uncontrollably. They continued to circle one another, but the man wasn’t paying attention to their surroundings and was nearing the bodies of two of their dead competitors. It was only a moment later when his foot came down squarely on the innards Killian had spilled earlier and flew out from under him, landing him flat on his back amid the blood and gore-covered ground.

Killian wasted no time. With a mighty leap, he landed on top of the man, his claws making ribbons of his enemy’s bare skin. He’d dropped his sword when he fell, and now reached for it as his screams filled Killian’s ears. Biting down on his upper arm, arterial blood sprayed his muzzle as he ripped it clean away from his shoulder. Killian slung the severed limb away before he turned back and tore the man’s throat out. The terror-filled and agonized screams turned to choking gurgles before they died away completely.

Killian looked up into the seats surrounding the arena. The masses were completely quiet and still, obviously not over the shock of what they’d just witnessed. When his gaze landed on Arthur’s, the despot’s eyes widened in panic, and he made haste to exit his elaborately decorated box. The rest of the audience followed the king’s lead, screaming and running for the exits. With another triumphant howl, Killian ran for the wall and cleared it with a single jump. He quickly caught up with the oppressive tyrant, leaping toward him and landing on his back, pushing him to the ground. He bit down on the exposed skin of his neck and was rewarded with another spray of blood signaling the end of the vile oppressor. 

The arena was now empty, save him and his True Love. He leapt back down to the ground and walked slowly towards her. She was crouched on the ground, her head hidden behind her arms, her golden hair shielding most of her body from view. He stopped, unwilling to terrify her even more than he already had, and changed back to his human form. He looked down and gasped when he saw his left hand completely restored.

He moved toward her again as she lifted her head and looked around at the empty arena.

“Where are your captors, milady?” he asked, gently.

“Gone, my lord,” she breathed. “Did you… what…?”

He unclasped the cloak he still wore from around his neck and spread it across her, covering her rags, though there was no one now to gawk or stare lustfully at her. She grabbed the edges and pulled it more fully around her as she rose to her feet, giving him a grateful nod.

“You’re him.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper and was filled with an awe that Killian didn’t understand.

“I’m… who?” he asked, confused.

“You’re him,” she answered, a bit stronger that time. “My True Love.”

Killian couldn’t hope to hide his surprise at her words.

“Yes,” he exclaimed, excitement bubbling over into a beaming smile. “How did you know?”

“You were missing a hand before you transformed,” she explained, haltingly. She couldn’t hold his gaze for any length of time, her eyes bouncing between his and his restored hand that she gently took in her own, her other hand tracing the veins and bones there. “My parents told me before I was taken that if I ever lost a limb, I’d lose my wolf until I found my True Love.”

“You’re a wolf?” Killian almost fell to his knees in shock. He knew there had to be more out there like him, but he’d never met another. Not even his mother. Killian’s wolf came from his father, who’d died long before his own wolf manifested.

She nodded shyly and showed him her arm with the silver bracelet.

“That’s why they put this on me,” she explained. “To keep me from changing. Could you take it off? I can’t. But someone else can.”

“Of course.” He pulled the bracelet off and threw it to the other side of the arena. 

She frowned, and Killian thought he’d never seen anything more adorable in his life. “If they hadn’t forced me to wear it, I would’ve made short work of those two before they could get me two steps in here.” 

Killian smiled and gathered her in his arms, placing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “That’s my girl.” After holding her for a moment, relishing the feel of her arms around him and the True Love between them, he released her. “My name is Killian. Killian Jones.”

“My name is Emma. Emma Swan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma Swan.” 

She smiled softly and finally met his gaze. “You as well, Killian Jones.” 

She looked around before meeting his eyes once again. “So what now?” she asked. 

“I have no desire to stay here,” he muttered darkly. “Shall we run?”

Her face broke into a beautiful smile. “Yes, please. I haven’t been able to change for almost a year. Since they took me from my home.”

“I have no home,” he said, a note of melancholy in his words. He looked at his True Love again, his mate, and felt a bone deep contentment that he’d never known. “You’re my home now, Emma.”

“And you’re mine, Killian.” Her smile was full of joy as she got down on all fours before him. “Let’s run.”

He joined her on the ground and transformed. When he came back to himself, he saw a pure white wolf in front of him with eyes of green. She tilted her muzzle to the sky and released a long howl before running for the wall surrounding them. He joined her, his howl mixing with hers in a haunting melody that sent chills down his spine. He followed her over the wall and they ran, ran, and ran away from their past and into their future.

Together.

~*~*~

Thank you so much for reading and sharing!!! I hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear what you thought!!! Please give Kit all the love as well for her gorgeous artwork!!! The Supernatural Summer will continue with more fics and art dropping about every other day through the end of August, and I so hope you enjoy this last round!!!

[spockderangementsyndrome]

Love it when we get to watch Star Trek on Star Trek

[potterpasta]

kirk: (starts building a bamboo potato launcher)

spock:

[navybrat817]

Spoils of War

Pairing: Gladiator!Steve Rogers x Female Reader, mention of Dark Advisor!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: Steve gets a reward for a job well done and wishes he could have been with you under different circumstances. Word Count: Over 3k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Noncon references (do NOT read if this upsets you), Dubcon elements (reader consents with Steve), vaginal unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), possessive behavior, dirty talk, talks of violence, captivity, servitude, dark themes, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Here we go with The Arena! Please heed the warnings with each post for this AU as there will be dark elements throughout. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Steve Rogers believed in doing the right thing. Even as a young boy, he didn't allow his small size to let bullies push him, or others, around. As long as he could get up, he would fight. He carried that idealism throughout his life. It was why he chose to work with S.H.I.E.L.D..

But he no longer fought for the greater good.

The cheers from the arena rang in his ears as he closed his eyes, the water from the showerhead washing the blood and grime away. It wouldn't take away the guilt that ate at his soul. He was meant to save people, not take their lives away. How was he reduced to being a puppet for the demented masses?

One day, he would be free.

Today, he would savor the spoils of war.

"You've done well, Captain Rogers. A prize is long overdue."

Steve dried off moments later and kept a towel around his waist as he waited for you. He didn't have to wait much longer. The cell door opened long enough to shove you inside, anger boiling in his gut when you almost fell to your knees.

"Break her and Barber will kill you," the guard threatened.

Andy Barber. His former colleague. Your master.

"Should I tell him you nearly made her fall on her face or do you want to do that yourself?"

The guard didn't respond, but had the decency to look afraid before he slammed the door and left the two of you alone.

Steve watched as you straightened up and carefully glanced around the room. The cell HYDRA kept him in was comfortable enough. A small bathroom, a nice bed, and a desk so he could draw. Charcoal only, as they didn't allow him to have anything he could use to harm them. They also refused to let him have a cell near Bucky, afraid they would conspire against the guards and break free.

Even if he did have a weapon with him, he wouldn't use it on you.

His prize.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked, bringing your gaze toward him.

This was the first time he had seen up close since the day everything went to hell. You were still beautiful, but there was sorrow in your eyes that hadn't been there before. The lacy red and black lingerie set did little to cover you, so different from the office clothes he typically saw you in. He wondered if you shivered slightly from the cold or fear.

"Yes. Thank you, Captain," you answered, offering him a small smile as you made your way to the foot of the bed.

You still had the same smile.

"Don't call me that," he said harsher than he intended to. "I'm not your Captain anymore."

He failed as Captain America. HYDRA captured you, Bucky, and countless others because he hadn't taken them down. It seemed like they only referred to him by his title to taunt him. Was he ever worthy of the shield?

Your smile slipped away as you sat down and lowered your gaze. "I'm sorry, sir."

Steve immediately wanted to pull you into his arms and apologize. You weren't in his cell for more than two minutes and he took his frustration out on you. He hadn't meant to.

"You don't need to apologize. I'm sorry for taking that tone with you. Steve or sir are both fine, sweetheart," he said, his towel slipping further down his hips as he walked toward you. "Or would you prefer I call you by your name?"

"You can call me whatever you want."

The words sounded rehearsed.

You looked up at him when his warm hand cradled your jaw, surprising him when you didn't recoil. He wondered what you saw as you looked into his eyes. A murderer? A monster?

"Why did you ask for me?" you asked.

"Because I was told I could have a reward for a job well done," he told you.

You narrowed your eyes. "Why me specifically?"

Rewards were typically in the form of a mistress since fighters couldn't ask for their freedom, or challenge anyone in charge to a battle. Mistresses were usually sent from the harem and not taken directly from one of the advisors or generals. It was only natural that you'd ask why.

"You belong to Andy Barber," he stated to gauge your reaction.

You flinched, your eyes flashing with something akin to offense and fury, but you didn't pull free from Steve's grasp. From what he gathered, you weren't a willing mistress to Andy. You knelt beside him at every match he could remember and never said a word. Advisors and Generals loved to show off their possessions. Requesting you as his prize for doing such a good job in the arena pissed Andy off, but he couldn't deny him.

A pet having power or sway over a master isn't allowed.

But unlike Andy, Steve's intentions weren't to harm or force himself on you.

If he thought for a moment that you were a willing participant in this, your reaction told him otherwise. "I don't belong to anyone."

"I wasn't trying to offend you," he promised, keeping his hand on you as he took a seat beside you. "How does he treat you?"

You hesitated before you answered. "Sometimes he fucks me like he loves me."

He ran a thumb across your cheek when a tear fell from your eye, rage surging through his veins. Even though you didn't bear any physical scars like him and the other fighters, you no doubt had wounds on the inside. Forced into sexual servitude would be enough to hurt the strongest of people. But the flicker of fire in your eyes, you still had some fight in you. It comforted him that they didn't break you.

"Did he do something to you? Is this some sort of payback?" you guessed.

"He did, but I didn't ask for you to get back at him," he said.

He wouldn't have asked for Andy's mistress if it was anyone other than you.

"I don't know why you're asking how he treats me. At the end of the day, I'm just his whore," you said, eying him warily. "And tonight, I'm yours."

He shook his head, bringing his other hand up to cup both cheeks. "You're not a whore."

He wished you could be his girl.

Maybe in another life.

"Then I don't understand why I'm here if you're not going to use me," you said, confusion filling your beautiful eyes. "I'm nobody."

"You worked on the 3rd floor," he said, tracing his finger along your bra strap when you gasped. "You had a cardigan on the back of your chair and the background on your computer matched whatever season we were in. You kept to yourself, but offered a small, kind smile whenever someone looked your way or jumped in to help without anyone asking. You were vital to S.H.I.E.L.D. and you're far from being a nobody."

You moved an inch closer and his gaze fell to your lips. "You knew me?" you asked in disbelief as he nodded. "I-I never thought anyone as high up as you would've noticed me."

"Of course, I did. I was just too stupid to say anything then," he replied, smiling sadly when he wiped another tear away.

Would it have made this situation better? Worse? Dwelling on "what if" would do more harm than good.

“So, you asked for me because you wanted to see me? You care?”

He let out a breath as he nodded. “I had to see for myself that you’re okay. Well, as okay as you can be given the circumstances,” he said.

There were so many things he wanted to say. That he was sorry a man like Andy ever got his hands on you. That he didn’t want you to give up hope. Why wouldn’t the words come out?

"I didn't think anyone cared," you said, lightly tracing a tiny scar on his arm. Something in your expression shifted from uncertainty to seductive as you leaned in closer. "But that shouldn't surprise me. You're a good man."

He placed a hand on your lips to stop you before you kissed him. Yes, he asked for you to be here, but he didn't want you to feel forced to do this. “No, sweetheart. I’m not going to use you.”

The point of his confession, or whatever he could call it, wasn't to make you give in to him. He needed you to know you did mean something to someone. You weren't alone in this.

“Is it using me if I’m offering?” you countered when he lowered his hand, giving you the chance to lean in to pepper his jaw with soft kisses. He didn’t stop you this time. “Unless you don’t want me.”

Steve wanted you. God, he wanted you, but he wouldn’t take from you the way Andy did. Even when you placed a hand on his thigh, your touch light and heavenly, he had to resist. HYDRA reduced him to a killer, he refused to sink any lower.

“I know you won’t hurt me,” you said, leaning back and reaching behind you to unhook your bra. He didn’t mean to groan when you took it off, but your breasts on display had his heart pounding against his ribs. Your nipples were hard and he hadn’t even properly touched you. “Like I said, you're a good man.”

Steve’s hands fell to your hips when you straddled him, his cock twitching beneath the towel. Was it wrong to give in if you wanted it? But did you actually want him? Were you acting on instinct? Orders?

“How am I a good man if I’m taking advantage of you?” he tried to argue when you pushed your hips down.

“You aren’t. You're giving me a choice and I'm choosing to give myself to you,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want to forget even if it’s just for tonight.”

He wanted to forget, too. He didn’t want to see the blood that stained his shield or the life leaving the eyes of the bodies that fell. What he wouldn’t give to have a beer with Bucky after a mission gone well. Or take you out on a proper date.

“I’m your prize, Steve. So take it.”

The last shred of hesitation inside him snapped when he fastened his lips against yours. You went pliant against him, opening your mouth for him to take what he wanted. It wasn’t how he wanted your first kiss with him to be, but it made him dizzy nonetheless.

He didn’t break the kiss as he rolled you over, spreading you out on your back to slide in between your thighs. He swallowed down the small sound you made before he gave you both a chance to catch your breath. The sight of you gazing up at him made him lose his breath again.

“Please,” you whispered, shuddering as he moved his calloused hands up your legs.

He heard people beg before, but not like this. You would be his salvation. He hoped he could be yours, too.

Torn between kissing up your thighs or diving right in, he decided to dip a hand between your legs. You shivered again as he pressed his palm against the damp, flimsy fabric. “You’re wet,” he said in awe, gripping the underwear and tearing it away.

Your back arched, sending a shiver down his spine when he saw your eyes glaze over with lust. “For you, Steve.”

For him.

The slide of his first finger made him close his eyes. You were tight and warm and the clench around the digit alone was enough to make his cock twitch. He wondered if you ever got this wet for Andy. Did he prep you? Make you come?

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” you whined when he pushed another finger in.

“Are you my prize, sweetheart?” he asked, spreading and sliding his fingers in and out. He brought his other hand up to your breasts, not wanting to neglect them as he toyed with your pussy. "Are you giving yourself to me?"

“Yes,” you said breathlessly when he pinched a hardened bud, your walls tightening more by the time he added a third finger. “I am.”

“Then let me handle you as I see fit,” the slight command that came out was reminiscent of his days of being a Captain, the very thing he told you not to call him.

“Yes, Sir,” you whimpered, arching your back again when he removed his fingers.

He brought them to his mouth and licked each of them clean, savoring the sweet and tangy flavor of you on his tongue. If he was a better man, he’d take more time with you. Worship every inch of you until you sobbed and begged for more. Later, he’d indulge until all he knew was your taste. Your first orgasm though, he wanted on his cock.

He had to be inside you now.

You blinked and smiled as if you sensed his need. “I’m ready.”

Steve gripped the base of his cock as he settled between your legs. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine you were in his home. He refused to do so. This was the reality you were in and he had to make the most of it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, silencing you with a kiss when you opened your mouth.

You gasped as he lined up with your entrance and slowly slid in. He almost stopped halfway through when you clenched hard around him, but his kisses relaxed you enough to let him in. He never felt anything as good as you and was sure he never would again. He was afraid he’d become addicted.

“I’m sorry, too,” you whispered back, sending shivers down his spine when you ran your fingers through his beard. “But it’s okay.”

He began to thrust, unable to take the tenderness in your eyes. In another life, he would’ve been worthy of that gaze and comfort. Now it was survival of the fittest.

“I won’t break,” you moaned, allowing him to take your wrists and pin them over your head. “You can fuck me how you need to.”

“What was it you said?” he asked, driving deeper into you to make you moan louder. “He fucks you like he loves you?”

You choked on your breath when you gazed up at him with fear in your eyes. You blinked it away before he could dwell on it. “Sometimes.”

“You haven’t been fucked by me before,” he grunted, taking your leg to wrap around his hip. “When I send him back to you, you’ll be dripping with me. He'll know you'll never truly be his."

A loud moan escaped when his grip on your wrists tightened, your hips rising to meet his thrusts as he fucked into you. It was easier than he thought to forget the horrors when he was buried inside you. What would he have to do to keep you for more than a night?

You squirmed when he slid his hand between your bodies and sought out your bundle of nerves. “You said you don’t belong to anyone, but here with me, you’re mine,” he said, circling your clit with his thumb. The whine he got in response was otherworldly. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you moaned, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

He wanted to believe it.

“Again,” he gritted. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours!”

Your eyes widened when you quivered around him, a gush of wetness flowing around his cock as you cried out. The orgasm seemed to take you by surprise, but he kept up his pace to ride it out. He hoped it would be the first of many. Your face twisted in pleasure was almost enough to send him over the edge.

“Please, Steve,” you moaned brokenly, lying bonelessly beneath him as he buried his face in your neck.

Steve couldn’t resist when you begged so beautifully, letting out a broken sound of his own as he spilled into you. The release had him panting against your skin as finished, trying to remember the last time he experienced ecstasy like that. He desperately tried to hang on, not wanting it to end for either of you.

He pushed himself up to look at you, but didn't pull out, a sense of pride filling him at your fucked out expression. Releasing your wrists, he brought your hands up to wrap around him. He wasn’t expecting to need the comforting touch, but he had to feel your hands on him after what you shared.

Silence stretched on as snuggled close and he thought for a moment that you drifted off when you stayed quiet.

“I don’t want to send you back in the morning,” he admitted, tilting your chin so you'd look at him.

You quietly sniffled as you turned away. “I don’t either, but you have to. Andy is furious enough as it is."

He pulled you in for a hug when you trembled. He wanted to choke the life out of Andy himself. Maybe HYDRA had made him a monster.

“Maybe you can't stay here permanently, but I’ll ask for you again after my next match. I promise.”

He didn’t want you around Andy longer than you had to be.

“So, we meet up after your fights and allow ourselves to keep forgetting? You go back into the fight and I go back to the Advisor quarters?” you asked, your eyes shining as he let you rest against the mattress.

He tilted his head as he studied your face. The blissful expression had determination underneath. Both of you wanted to get out of here, like everyone else. With your position, maybe you could use it to your, and his, advantage.

“I’m a fighter. You’re the mistress of an advisor. I’m sure we can forget and find other uses for our time together,” he said carefully, in case he was reading you incorrectly. “What do you say?”

The smile you gave him was hopeful. “I'm in."

Oh, you don't think it'll be that easy, do you? Not if Andy has his way. 😏 Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mudwerks]

(via JHALAL DRUT: The Arena (1974))

[satureja13]

Outtakes

Pic above: It seems Agatha is also a big fan of Lou ;)

Pics below: Jack and Lou were peacefully riding to the Pub, when Lunatic ran off.

Back to the Arena where Noxee still was (with Greg of course! Poor Jack ^^')

Siawa had 'called' (from outside the Game) to ask Jack if everything is ok :3 aouww They are so worried after what happened in Jack's first playtest.

And Vampire Prince Caleb wasn't feeling well with all those furry Werewolves around ö.Ö' Prince Caleb: "Why are we even here?" Queen Noxee: "That's what royals do apparently. Show up at all kind of nonsense events to please our subjects or whatsoever. Smile!"

Haha and then adult Jack passed by!

Vlad: "Can I have my money now?"

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[magpieandpossum]

I gave up on this this one haha

[curtvilescomic]

Pam Grier in The Arena (1974)

[thresholdbb]

Kirk absolutely would

[mockingjaysnakes]

"work, please."

[kmomof4]

The Arena Ch. 2 CS Spooky Season/Autumnal Bingo

I made it!!!! My first Bingo offering!!! I hope you enjoy this fluff-fest of an ending to my CSSNS24 fic The Arena! I'm so thrilled to join in this fall writing challenge where all the fics written so far have just been fantastic!!!! You can find the rest of the fics here.

Thank you to @hollyethecurious for the Bingo idea and for making the cards and collection on ao3 and thank you also to @snowbellewells for betaing this fic!! And finally, as always, thank you to @motherkatereloyshipper for her beautiful artwork that she made to accompany the fic last summer. It's still quite appropriate even though we're not actually in the arena any more... you can see her artwork under the cut.

Fic Summary:

The arena.

A place of fear. Oppression. Blood. Death.

A place of shattered hopes and dreams.

A place, for a very lucky few, of hope.

Ch Summary:

Emma and Killian return to her home.

Rating: M (for graphic depictions of violence and smut)

On ao 3 From the beginning / Ch2

On Tumblr

Words: 4600 of 7800

Tags: CSSNS24, Werewolves, True Love, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Happy Ending, Smut

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615

@donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells  @djlbg

@lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica

@laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter

@ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie

@soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite

@jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779

@kymbersmith-90 @suwya @veryverynotgoodwrites @myfearless-love 

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 2 Homeward Bound

Killian uncurled himself from his mate, his True Love, as the rising sun lit up the small cave they’d taken shelter in the evening before. He and Emma had been traveling together just over a month since they’d escaped the arena where they met - himself a willing captive, while his love had been kidnapped, restrained, and forced to participate in the depraved contest for the entertainment of the now forcibly deposed emperor. 

It hadn’t been long after their escape that they’d decided to return to Emma’s home many leagues to the east on the far edge of the empire. Staying in their wolf forms, for ease of traveling, they had nearly reached their destination at last. Emma recognized the forest that surrounded her small village in which her family’s farm was on the far side. After the very long day of traveling, in addition to the uncertainty of what they’d find when they arrived at her home, Emma had asked to rest overnight still under the cover of the forest. As her mate, her protector, and her True Love, Killian had of course acceded to her wishes. 

Now with the sun well into the sky, Killian lifted his head and turned his attention to the entrance of the cave. The small forest creatures had been awake for some time already, and he could hear their scurrying feet outside their resting place. Once Emma woke, they’d procure sustenance - much easier to do in wolf form than human form since they had no coin between them - and make their way to her home.

He could just detect a difference in her breathing that told him she’d soon wake. He began nosing and licking her muzzle, gently coaxing her into wakefulness. She shook her head and opened her mouth in a jaw-popping yawn before her gorgeous green eyes - that matched the forest outside - blinked open and settled on him. Killian nuzzled his snout, then his entire head underneath her upturned jaw, showering his mate with tender affection as his body curled around hers until he rested his head on her haunches and she laid her head across his back.

They rested like that for just a few moments before Emma raised her head and stood up, giving herself a vigorous shake. Killian grinned at his mate, not yet over the awe he felt beholding her beauty; anytime really, but especially in the morning light that made her white fur nearly blinding. If the gods did decide to strike him blind at that moment, he would have no cause to complain, and in fact, would be eternally grateful that his True Love was the last thing he ever beheld. He’d hold her in his mind’s eye until death parted them, even if that day was a hundred years hence.

Shaking himself as well, he stood and made his way to the front of the cave, peering out into the forest surrounding them. Looking back toward his mate to see if she was ready to head out, he took a great bounding leap into the deep green foliage, Emma right behind him. They raced through the woods, their keen eyes looking out for a deer that they might enjoy before traveling the last few miles to Emma’s family farm.

Luck was on their side, and once they’d satisfied their hunger, they took off toward the edge of the woodland that bordered the village in which Emma had been born and raised. When they finally arrived at the farm, Killian could clearly see that Emma’s fears of what she’d find when she arrived home were entirely justified. The fields of grain that she’d described to him were now nothing more than scorched earth in front of them. Emma stood next to him, still as death, until she raised her snout to the sky and released a long, mournful howl that he quickly joined.

The forlorn refrain carried over the decimated fields, their wolf song expressing their joint grief and sorrow for the destruction of her home. The place that they’d both hoped to be able to make a home for themselves and their future family. As the melancholy lay filled the sky, Killian suddenly heard two other bereaved voices join in his and Emma’s song.

Emma’s voice choked at the unexpected addition - her song cut off as if with a knife - and her ears twitched toward the other melody. Suddenly she streaked away, running faster than he’d ever seen. Killian wasted no time chasing after her and had nearly caught up with her furious flight when he could see two other wolves racing towards them. 

Killian stopped, somehow knowing exactly who these wolves were. Emma leaped at the larger of the two, who’d risen on his back legs to meet her, embracing her as well as could be expected in wolf form. The smaller of the two wolves stood nearby and transformed as the other two joyfully greeted one another, with yips, howls, and rolling around together on the ground. 

A black haired petite woman stood where the wolf had been, and Killian could see the resemblance between his Emma and this woman who could only be her mother. The only difference was their hair color and the age difference. She launched herself at the two wolves still entangled on the ground. Killian felt like his heart was going to explode with happiness as he watched the reunion between his True Love and her parents. He transformed, then waited patiently where he was until Emma and her father both transformed and she turned to him, tears in her eyes and beckoned him toward them.

“Mama, Papa,” she began, reaching out her hand toward him, “this is Killian Jones, my True Love.” The man and woman turned to him, the woman’s green eyes - so like his love’s - also filled with tears.

“True Love?” she asked, a watery smile lifting her lips.

As Killian moved toward them, he realized that her parents were utterly unconcerned with the state of their clothing, but he still felt terribly exposed with nothing on but the ragged breaches he’d been wearing the day of the contest. He was glad that Emma still had the cloak he’d given her wrapped around her. He’d hate for her father to see the rags she now wore.

“Aye,” Killian replied, coming close and taking Emma’s outstretched hand. “Emma was the prize in the arena I was competing in, and as soon as our eyes met, my wolf returned. I’d lost him when I was but a lad, when an angry shopkeeper cut off my hand.” He looked down at his restored limb, still not used to seeing it after living so many years without it. Emma’s mother grasped it firmly and pulled him to her, embracing him fiercely. He hadn’t felt the love and acceptance of a mother in almost fifteen years, and he wasn’t terribly surprised when his own eyes filled with tears of their own.

Finally releasing him, she introduced herself and her husband to him. “I’m Mary Margaret and this is David. We are so very pleased to meet you, Killian Jones.”

“You’ve brought our daughter home to us,” David said, placing his hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing we could say or do to repay the kindness you’ve shown us.”

“You owe me nothing,” Killian replied. “We wanted nothing more than to come here and find a home where we could raise a family.”

“After we woke to the fire,” Mary Margaret began, turning questioning eyes onto her husband when he gently placed his hand on her arm.

“We should probably return to town to find a place to stay before exchanging stories,” he suggested. “It will take some time before we’ll be able to rebuild and return here for good,” he continued, turning sorrowful eyes at the fields before them.

“Of course,” his wife agreed. They all turned toward the small village in the distance and began walking as Mary Margaret continued her story. “We knew the tales. The brutality of Arthur’s rule and how he wouldn’t hesitate to steal, kill, and destroy to keep his subjects in line. We just never really thought he’d bother with us all the way out here, so far away from the capitol. But when the fire woke us, and after it was out there was no trace of Emma, we knew what had happened. That she’d been taken as either an addition to his harem or as a prize for the arena. With the farm destroyed, we set out to search for her. We were willing to pay any price, do anything to bring her home with us once we found her. We hadn’t found any trace of her at the other three arenas and were finally on our way to the capitol when we heard a rumor that Arthur had been attacked and killed by a wolf in the arena.” 

Mary Margaret paused and brought her hand to her chest as more tears filled her eyes, a single drop falling down her cheek. David wrapped his arm around her shoulder and drew her close to his side in comfort, and Killian and Emma smiled gently, encouraging her to continue.

“When we heard the tale,” she resumed after a deep fortifying breath, “we couldn’t help but hope that perhaps Emma was the wolf, and since Arthur was dead, she’d be able to escape and come home. So instead of continuing toward the capitol - that was still about a week’s travel away from where we were - we decided to come home, in the hopes of finding Emma here.”

“Killian was the wolf in the arena,” Emma supplied. “I was the prize, but they’d put a magic bracelet on me that I couldn’t remove and that kept me from changing.” She squeezed Killian’s hand in affection and looked up at him, her eyes filled with love. “When our eyes met before he transformed…” she paused, her emotions overcoming her. Killian squeezed her hand in support and after another moment or two, she was able to continue. “I felt a connection with him that I’d never known before. None of the others even registered in my mind. I noticed he only had one hand, so I was stunned when he transformed, and if I hadn’t had that bracelet on, I would have joined him. But he took care of all the other competitors and then attacked Arthur. When he came back, he had both hands. So I knew the only way that could have happened was if he was my True Love. He wouldn’t have been able to transform with only one.”

By this time they had reached the outskirts of the village and were making their way down the main street toward the inn. When they entered, Killian looked around, taking in the rough but clean interior with an older woman behind the counter. As soon as her eyes landed on them, her rather severe countenance broke into a brilliant smile full of joy and affection.

“David, Mary Margaret, Emma,” she cried, coming around the counter toward them. It was only moments before Emma and her parents were engulfed in an enthusiastic and affectionate embrace that they all eagerly returned. “When you were all gone after the fire, we feared the worst. And it’s been so long now, we’d nearly lost hope that you’d ever return.”

“Emma was kidnapped to be a prize in the arena,” David began, “and we set out to look for her. When we heard about Arthur’s death, we came home, hoping that Emma would soon be returned to us.” He turned to Killian, and brought him forward toward the old woman. “Killian is Emma’s True Love and brought her home. He was the wolf that killed Arthur. Killian, this is Granny Lucas.”

Killian nodded in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Lucas,” he said.

“Oh, no no no, Killian,” Mary Margaret interjected before anyone else could. “Everyone calls Granny Lucas Granny, and you’ll be expected to do the same.”

Granny nodded in agreement, her stern countenance back in place until Killian nodded in acquiescence. “A pleasure to meet you, Granny,” he corrected himself.  

At his words, he found himself caught up in just as fierce a hug as his companions had enjoyed only a few minutes before. Not used to such blatant gestures of affection, it took him a moment to reciprocate. Once she released him, David spoke again.

“We all just arrived back at the farm today.” Granny was obviously aware of the condition of their home, because the joy on her face abruptly turned to sorrow.

“There really wasn’t anything left for you to come home to,” she commiserated. Just as quickly, her visage turned serious and determined. “You know that you have a place here as long as you need it. All of you have a place here until you can rebuild.”

“Thank you, Granny,” David replied.

The lovable old woman directed David and Mary Margaret to a table and bustled Emma and Killian up the stairs to get decent clothes for them. Once she brought them back down in borrowed clothes from her granddaughter Ruby and her husband Graham, she sat them down at the table with David and Mary Margaret, and only a few minutes later, brought out a hearty noontime meal and fresh baked bread for the family. Business was steady, but not so busy that Granny and Ruby were not both able to visit with the small family as they enjoyed the warm food. Emma and Killian repeated their story whenever Granny and Ruby joined them and filled in the gaps that hadn’t yet been disclosed to David and Mary Margaret. Once they were finished, Mary Margaret responded.

“So you haven’t actually been wed yet?”

Emma and Killian cast shy glances at each other before Killian answered for them. 

“No, actually,” he said. “We left the arena in our wolf forms immediately, and I just followed her. She told me that she wanted to return home after being away for almost a year, and since I haven’t had a home since my mother died fifteen years ago, I was more than willing to go with her. It was much easier to travel in our wolf forms. We didn’t have to worry about paying for lodging or cooking meals - so that’s what we’ve done. Now that we’re here, and ready to settle down, we’ll be in our human forms.”

“We must arrange a wedding at once,” Mary Margaret enthused. The joy was clear on her face, and Killian could feel his cheeks heat as he glanced at his love and saw the same soft and loving smile on her face as he was sure was on his. “After losing you a year ago,” Mary Margaret continued, “I despaired of ever seeing you in love, married, and with a family of your own.” She reached across the table and grasped Emma’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Now that you’re here - that we’re together - we mustn’t waste a day.”

Killian looked down at his love and with that silent communication between them - further proof of their True Love connection, as if they needed one - expressed their own desires for that very thing. Staying in wolf form since the day they met, they’d not consummated their relationship in any way, and now that they were truly home, the thought of making love with his True Love made his breath catch.

“Archie can perform the ceremony,” Ruby said, Granny, and Mary Margaret voicing their agreement.

“And I can prepare a feast the village hasn’t seen since your wedding, Ruby,” Granny added. She rose quickly to go find Graham so she could send him to the forest to bring back the required meat for the planned celebration that evening.

Emma rested her head on Killian’s shoulder and sighed in contentment as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Once the rest of their meal was consumed, Mary Margaret and Ruby took Emma upstairs to prepare her for the wedding, and David and Killian left to join Graham in the forest.

Killian pulled David aside, not wanting to be overheard.

“We could bring down a few deer much easier as wolves than humans,” he began, when David interrupted him.

“Graham is a wolf too,” he informed him. Killian gasped in shock. Never meeting another wolf in his entire life, and then in the space of a month, meeting his True Love - who was also a wolf - her parents who were both wolves themselves, and now Graham… It was completely overwhelming. 

David grinned. “Our entire village is made up of wolves. That’s why we’re on the very edge of the empire.”

Killian couldn’t disguise his surprise if he tried. His mouth hung open, and it took a moment before he could think of anything coherent to say in response. “Before Emma, I’d never met another wolf. Besides my father,” he added quickly.

David squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll be in very good company here, Killian.”

Killian swallowed hard and smiled at his love’s father. “Thank you.”

David pulled him into a quick but tight embrace that expressed everything they couldn’t yet put into words. Pulling away, they both transformed and turned to see a tawny wolf moving silently through the trees. Hunting as part of a pack was an entirely new experience for Killian, and it took almost no time at all to bring down several deer, enough to feed the entire village. 

Once the men got the animals to the village, dressed, and ready for cooking, delicious smells were already permeating the air around the inn. There was an air of celebration in the village with David greeting his friends and neighbors he hadn’t seen in a year and telling them Emma and Killian’s story.

Hours later, Killian stood in the middle of what would be his and his bride’s room for their wedding night, dressed in the finest clothes he’d ever worn, even if they were borrowed from Graham. His head was almost spinning. His life had turned completely around in the space of a month, and this day alone, it had changed in even more unexpected ways. He was about to wed his True Love. The one fated for him by the gods, whom he’d never really believed he’d meet. He was about to join his life to hers, she would join hers to him, and they would join her family in a village full of wolves to raise a family of their own. Tears filled his eyes as David approached him and clasped his shoulder.

“I have nothing to say,” he began, his own eyes shining. “Seeing you together, it is clear to me that there is no one better suited for my daughter than you, Killian Jones. I know that you will love her, provide for her and the family you raise together, cherish her, and honor her to the end of your days, and there is nothing that I could desire more. Welcome to the Swan family, son.”

David pulled Killian to him in a tight embrace that Killian returned with fervor.

“Thank you for accepting me into your family,” he murmured into his shoulder.

It was a long moment before David released him with a beaming smile. 

“Let’s get you married!” he exclaimed happily, and Killian couldn’t agree more.

They came down the stairs and met Graham. The younger men exited the inn, turning toward a beautiful multicolored tent erected a little ways down from the establishment, where stood a thin man with curly red hair, that he assumed must be Archie who would perform the ceremony. Killian and Graham approached him, Killian barely noticing all the people gathered to celebrate the nuptials. 

As soon as they took their places, they turned back toward the inn to see David and Mary Margaret, with Emma in between them, emerge from the building. Killian caught his breath at his bride’s beauty. She wore a long cream gown that, in Killian’s eyes, put the setting sun to shame. Her golden hair only added to the glow that surrounded her. In that moment, everything and everyone else faded away, his full attention on his beautiful bride. 

The ceremony itself was brief, with both of them making vows to love, honor, and cherish one another until death parted them. Once their vows were spoken, the villagers cheered as they sealed their union with a tender kiss. Killian didn’t think he’d ever forget the deep love and happiness in Emma’s eyes as they parted, knowing they reflected exactly the same thing in his.

Granny, Ruby, and Mary Margaret immediately began setting out the prepared feast for the village as everyone else surrounded the newly married couple. After the meal was consumed and everyone was happy and relaxed, David sent Killian a significant look that he had no trouble interpreting. 

“Now’s your chance to leave,” David told him. “Everyone is still enjoying themselves and no one will miss you. The other men and I will be talking about rebuilding our home, and,” he continued when Killian opened his mouth to interrupt, “a home for you and Emma will also be discussed, I can assure you.”

“Thank you,” Killian replied. He turned to Emma to see joyful anticipation dancing in her gaze. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the knuckles. “Shall we, my darling one?” he asked.

“We shall, my husband,” she breathed.

With those words, he led her inside the inn and up to their room. He closed the door firmly behind him and turned to his bride. She was ethereal in her beauty. More breathtaking than anything in heaven or on earth. The thought that she was now his nearly brought him to his knees in profound gratitude.

“When they took me, I thought my life was over,” she murmured. “But instead it led me to you, my True Love.” Tears filled her eyes, and he silently took her in his arms and held her close.

“I never thought I’d actually find my True Love,” he replied softly. “When my mother told me my wolf was gone when I woke from my fever, she told me not to give up hope. That I would find her someday.”

He cupped her chin in both his hands and just stared into her eyes for a moment, getting lost in the love and joy he found there. Impatience tinged with mischief filled her gaze as she refused to wait any longer. She drew him down to her lips and claimed him with all the strength of the wolf inside of her. Killian chuckled against her lips and opened his mouth to her seeking tongue.

When their tongues met, a contented sigh fell from his love’s mouth, that he took full advantage of. The kiss at their wedding had been their first, and it had whetted their appetite for a full conflagration at the earliest opportunity.  A groan passed from his lips that she eagerly reciprocated as both of their hands roamed, utterly delighted to finally be able to touch one another.

Killian’s hands shook as he pulled back from Emma and gently pushed the gossamer fabric of her gown off her shoulders so that it cascaded in a whispered ripple to the floor. The moment she was bared to him, he drew her back into his embrace, his kiss possessive and passionate, showing her without words how much he loved her. 

Now that he held her in his arms again, she began her own explorations, undressing him quickly and efficiently until he stood naked before her. Her roaming hands and kisses were driving him mad with desire, and the wolf inside of him howled in enjoyment of her touch. 

The intrinsic True Love connection between them only heightened their passionate pleasure as they lay down together on the bed. Killian had never laid on anything so soft and comfortable as a human before - the closest he’d ever come to it was a soft pile of leaves he’d rest upon as a wolf - and the twin sighs that came from him and his love made them both grin in amused delight before bursting into laughter.

“It’s so lovely to have an actual mattress to sleep on again,” she observed once their mutual mirth faded. “It had been so long, I nearly forgot what it felt like.”

“I’ve never laid on anything so luxurious, so soft,” he replied, ducking his head slightly when her eyes grew round with surprise. Even with their True Love connection, they really hadn’t delved much into their respective pasts in the last month as they journeyed, so Killian worried for a moment that as he opened up to her just this tiny bit about his past, it might cause her to look at him differently. But as he looked into her eyes again, all he saw was sincere admiration and the same love he’d become accustomed to over the last weeks as they traveled.

“We’ll have the same, or even better, once our own home is built, Killian,” Emma promised him, a teasing smile now lifting the corner of her lips. “But for now, I think we should put this mattress to good use. Don’t you?” she asked.

His own smirk touched his lips. “I do,” he agreed, before claiming her lips once more. His touch grew bolder, his kisses more passionate, and she responded in kind until they couldn’t stand to be two individuals any longer. Killian positioned himself between her legs and made them one with a single stroke, a cry of ecstasy pulled from Emma’s lips that Killian would never tire of hearing as long as he lived.

She clenched around him as he drove himself into her, pushing them both toward that precipice that was just out of reach. Emma’s legs trembled, and Killian knew she was closer than he was, so he reached down and rubbed circles around her hardened nub until with a shattered cry she fell into the abyss of pure pleasure a second time, dragging him along with her.

It was several minutes before he was able to move and roll off of his love, drawing her into his arms as their bodies cooled. He kissed her forehead, tasting the sweat on her skin, and smiled tenderly at her.

“I love you, Emma Swan,” he whispered.

“Jones,” she corrected him, her eyes already shut and with a sleepy but sated smile on her face.

“Jones,” he agreed, smiling fondly down at her. “I’m so thankful that I am yours and you are mine.”

“Hmmmm,” she said, almost too quiet to hear, “me, too.”

“I will give you all of my life,” he vowed. “I will always be by your side. To the end of the world, or time.”

Emma didn’t respond, her breaths already evened out into the gentle cadence of sleep. As Killian drew her closer into his embrace, he was finally able to believe that this wasn’t a dream - the dream of a homeless street urchin who had despaired of ever finding true happiness, outside of his own death. 

He finally had a home. A home with Emma. A home with her family. A home within this village of wolves, just like him. He didn’t think it was possible to be happier, until the thought crossed his mind of the future children they’d raise together. But if the gods never blessed him in that way, he at least had his newfound family, and he’d be forever grateful for that.

His happy and contented thoughts ushered him into the sweetest dreams he’d ever known, and they both slept peacefully until the morning light, signaling the start of their new life. 

Together. Never to part. 

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I'd love to know what you think!

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Pam Grier and Margaret Markov - The Arena (1974)

[retrocgads]

USA 1997