The room was small and dark, barely more than a storage space with a worn couch against one wall. Emma closed the door behind them and stood there for a moment, her back to him, shoulders rigid.
"You sure about this?" Kurt asked.
"Shut up," Emma said, but there was no animosity in it. Just exhaustion.
She pulled off her jacket and tossed it aside, standing in just her tank top, the intricate tattoos that snaked across her arm visible now.
The fabric clung to every curve, and her grey eyes were dark with something that wasn't quite desire, more like hunger mixed with challenge.
"So?" Emma said.
Kurt looked at her, trying to read what was happening behind those eyes. "You're serious."
"Do I look like I'm fucking joking?" She stepped closer. "This is way better than talking, and you used to be good at it. I really hope you still are."
Kurt stood slowly. "That's one hell of a proposition."
"Yeah." Emma's fingers found the hem of her top. "But if you're gonna suck at this, you'll probably suck in the dungeon too."
Before Kurt could respond, she pulled the tank top over her head in one sharp motion. No ceremony or teasing.
Her breasts were barely contained in a purple lace bra, and the spider tattoo on her ribs seemed to crawl across her tan skin in the dim light.
But it was the scars that caught Kurt's attention. Thin white lines across her stomach, a puckered burn mark on her shoulder, the kind of damage that came from years of violence.
"Well?" she said. "You gonna stand there like an idiot or—"
Kurt crossed the distance between them and grabbed her by the throat just hard enough to make her catch her breath and he wondered if this was the sort of thing she expected from him.
Emma's eyes flashed with something feral, and her lips curved into a wicked smile. "There you are."
'I guess it is.' He kissed her, or maybe she kissed him, it was hard to tell, but there was nothing gentle about it. Her teeth caught his lower lip, biting down and drawing blood, and when he tightened his grip on her throat, she moaned into his mouth.
"Harder," she breathed, and he didn't know if she meant his hand or the kiss, but he gave her both.
Emma's hands were rough on his shirt, yanking it up and over his head, nails scraping down his chest to leave red lines that hurt, but in a good way, and Kurt realized she wasn't just rough, she was trying to make it hurt.
She shoved him back toward the couch, and when he caught himself, she was already working his belt aggressively.
"You always did like it rough," she said, voice low and edged with something dangerous.
"Did I?" Kurt's hands found her hips, gripping hard enough to leave a bruise.
"Yeah." She yanked his belt free and tossed it aside. "You used to fuck me like you really wanted it," she whispered, stroking him roughly through the fabric.
"You knew exactly what I needed..." Her hand slipped into his pants, wrapping around his cock, and she stroked him once, hard, almost punishing. "...and you didn't ask questions about why I wanted it that way."
She stroked his length again and Kurt's hips jerked forward in a way that made her laugh. "Still sensitive," she murmured. "Good to know that hasn't changed."
Kurt grabbed her wrist, yanking her hand away, and spun her around. He pressed her face-first against the back of the couch, one hand between her shoulder blades, pinning her down.
"You want rough?" he said against her ear. "Better be ready to take it."
Emma's laugh was breathless. "Ok, tough guy."
He yanked her shorts down along with her underwear in one violent motion, and she kicked them off without hesitation.
Then his hand slid between her thighs, and she was already wet, soaked, actually, her pussy slick and hot against his fingers.
"Fuck," he muttered.
"Less talking," Emma growled, pushing back against his hand. "More doing."
Kurt worked his pants down just enough to free his cock, and then he was pressing against her entrance, the head nudging her slick folds. Emma didn't wait, she shoved back hard, taking him halfway in one brutal thrust.
They both groaned at the sensation. She was tight, her inner walls clenching around him, and the angle had him pressing deep, stretching her in ways that made her breath hitch.
"Fuck," Emma gasped, her hands gripping the couch. "Don't you dare go soft on me."
Kurt pulled back and slammed in again, harder this time, driving deep until his balls pressed against her ass. Emma held her breath in a strangled gasp and he felt her whole body tense beneath him.
Emma's back arched, a choked sound escaping her throat, and he set a punishing rhythm of deep, hard strokes that made her entire body jolt forward with each thrust.
"That's it," she panted with a ragged voice. "Fuck me like you mean it. Make me feel it."
His hands gripped her hips, pulling her back onto his cock with every thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.
"Oh, fuck." Emma's moans were raw and unfiltered, each one edged with desperation and violence.
"Harder," she gasped. "Fucking harder."
Kurt leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back, one hand sliding up to wrap around her throat again. He squeezed, not enough to cut off air, but enough to make her gasp, and felt her pussy clench around him in response.
"You like that?" he growled in her ear.
"Fuck," Emma hissed. "Fuck yes."
He fucked her harder, his cock driving deep with every thrust, and Emma's moans turned into sharp cries.
Her hand slipped between her legs, fingers finding her clit, and she rubbed herself frantically while he pounded into her.
"Come on," she gasped. "Make me come. Make me fucking come."
Kurt's hand tightened on her throat, his other hand gripping her hip so hard his fingers dug into her flesh. He angled his thrusts, hitting that spot deep inside that made her whole body tense, and Emma screamed in a raw sound that went straight to his cock.
Her pussy spasmed around him, clenching rhythmically as her orgasm tore through her. She shook violently, her legs trembling, and Kurt didn't stop, he kept fucking her through it, prolonging the waves of pleasure until she was gasping, almost sobbing.
"Kurt—fuck—I can't—"
"You can take it," he growled, and slammed into her again.
Emma's second orgasm hit before the first had fully faded, and this time she did sob. A broken, desperate sound that made something primal snap inside him.
Kurt pulled out, flipped her onto her back on the couch, and drove back into her in one brutal thrust.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and her nails raked down his back hard enough to draw blood. Their eyes locked, and there was something wild in her gaze, something damaged, hungry and utterly unhinged.
"Don't stop," she whispered, and it sounded like both a threat and plea.
Kurt didn't. He fucked her hard and deep, the couch creaking under the force of it, and Emma met him thrust for thrust.
Her breasts bounced with every impact, her mouth falling open in a silent scream, and when she came again, she bit down on his shoulder leaving teeth marks.
The pain sent him over the edge. Kurt buried himself as deep as he could go and came with a guttural groan, his cock pulsing as he filled her.
Thick ropes of cum spilled inside her, and Emma's pussy milked every drop, clenching around him greedily like she needed this as much as he did.
They stayed locked together, both of them shaking, slick with sweat and other fluids. Kurt's cock was still twitching inside her, and he could feel their combined release leaking out, coating his balls and dripping onto the couch.
Emma's chest heaved, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and when she finally looked at him, there was something almost vulnerable in her eyes. But it was gone in a flash, replaced by her usual hardness.
"Well," she said, voice hoarse. "Your dick still works."
Kurt's laughed, still trying to catch his breath. "High praise."
"Don't let it go to your head." Emma pushed at his chest, and he pulled out slowly. More cum leaked from her pussy, running down her thigh.
"Shit." She looked down on herself then towards her clothes. She sighed and grabbed them and started dressing.
"That's it?" Kurt said, still catching his breath, watching the way she was putting her armor back on, literal and metaphorical.
"What, you want to cuddle?" Emma pulled her tank top on, and her voice was flat again, emotionless. "That's not what this was."
"What was it then?" Kurt asked quietly.
Emma stopped, her hand on her jacket, and for a moment he thought she might actually answer. But then she picked up the jacket and shrugged it on, and when she looked at him, her expression was closed off completely.
"It was nothing," she said. "Just sex. That's all it ever is."
She headed for the door, moving like nothing had happened, like they hadn't just fucked each other raw while she'd been coming apart at the seams. But she paused in the doorway without turning around.
"Get some sleep," she said, and her voice was carefully controlled now. "You'll need it tomorrow."
"Emma—"
"Don't," she cut him off, and there was something sharp in her voice now, something warning him not to push. "Just... don't."
Then she was gone, the door closing behind her with a soft click.
Kurt sat there alone, blood from her bite marks staining his shoulder. His body ached in the best way, and somewhere in the back of his mind, it all felt familiar.
Like muscle memory.
Like instinct.
Like he'd done this before and his body remembered exactly how.
He touched his shoulder where she'd bitten him. The teeth marks were deep, already bruising.
Some part of him understood that whatever had just happened, it wasn't just sex.
It was Emma reminding him, and maybe herself, that they were both the kind of people who survived by being closed off and dangerous.
And tomorrow, he'd need every bit of that danger to stay alive.
***
A/N: I hope you're enjoying this so far. Add to Library and send a power stone or two if you're. Thank you and peace!