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salmon_pinkTitle: Led By Left
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Killian/Will
Rating: NC-17
Words: 498
Timeline: Season Four's The Apprentice
Notes: Rough sex. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fan_flashworks, prompt "haunted".
Summary: Slowly losing his white-knuckled grip on his control.
Killian’s hand curls into a fist, the knuckles spattered with blood. Gold, that damn crocodile, he’s doing it again, ripping Killian’s life apart, getting between him and the woman he loves.
His fingernails itch, like they long to claw at Gold’s skin, to tear and destroy. His past, his violence, his darkness, all manifested in his hand, beyond his control, trying to tell Killian that he is beyond redemption.
He wants to hurt someone. He wants to hurt himself. He wants to not think, to forget, to be outside his own head.
The man slumped at his feet pushes himself up, stumbling drunkenly. Back at the restaurant, Emma had identified him as apparently being named Will.
Killian doesn’t care what he’s called, grabbing Will’s collar and hauling him up. There’s blood beneath Will’s nose, and his eyes are wide, wary but interested.
He’s a man looking to forget himself, too. Like recognises like.
Will doesn’t resist when Killian shoves at him, yanking his arm and hauling him around the side of the building. Pushing him into the alley and against the wall, and Will’s eyes flare, a leer on his mouth, lopsided and taunting.
Killian doesn’t want to taste the bitterness of his fate, not anymore, so he chases the taste of whiskey on Will’s lips instead.
“Fuck, yes,” Will slurs against his mouth, and his hands grab at Killian’s jacket, tilting his head back for the drag of Killian’s lips at his throat. “Let’s do this, c’mon.”
Sounding just as frustrated, just as desperate for distraction as Killian feels, and he kisses Will again to shut him up. Scrabbling at the fly of his jeans, and his hand, his cursed hand, drops lower, squeezes Will’s cock through the fabric just to enjoy his groan.
Will’s movements are sloppy, uncoordinated, but Killian’s hands, both of them, make quick work of the buttons that separate them. Flesh against flesh makes them both grunt, pushing closer, and Killian’s cursed hand wraps around both their cocks, holding them flush together. Biting at Will’s lip as he strokes them both, as their hips buck and thrust, frantic and brutal pace set by Killian’s anger, by the hungry sounds Will can’t hold back.
He doesn’t know this man, he doesn’t want to. But Will feels good against him, solid and male, one hand fisting in the back of Killian’s jacket, the other on his arse. Urging him on, and this must be hurting him, his back scraping against the bricks. But maybe Will wants that pain, and Killian’s hands squeezes tighter without his permission, making him moan and shiver, his forehead dropping against Will’s shoulder as he fucks his own fist. It’s tight enough to hurt, but that makes it better, makes it easier to shut everything else out.
Killian surrenders to it, lets his hand take over, moving as it wants. If he’s to be haunted by its cruelty, at least he can be allowed to find some pleasure in its touch.
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Killian/Will
Rating: NC-17
Words: 498
Timeline: Season Four's The Apprentice
Notes: Rough sex. For
fan_flashworks, prompt "haunted".Summary: Slowly losing his white-knuckled grip on his control.
Killian’s hand curls into a fist, the knuckles spattered with blood. Gold, that damn crocodile, he’s doing it again, ripping Killian’s life apart, getting between him and the woman he loves.
His fingernails itch, like they long to claw at Gold’s skin, to tear and destroy. His past, his violence, his darkness, all manifested in his hand, beyond his control, trying to tell Killian that he is beyond redemption.
He wants to hurt someone. He wants to hurt himself. He wants to not think, to forget, to be outside his own head.
The man slumped at his feet pushes himself up, stumbling drunkenly. Back at the restaurant, Emma had identified him as apparently being named Will.
Killian doesn’t care what he’s called, grabbing Will’s collar and hauling him up. There’s blood beneath Will’s nose, and his eyes are wide, wary but interested.
He’s a man looking to forget himself, too. Like recognises like.
Will doesn’t resist when Killian shoves at him, yanking his arm and hauling him around the side of the building. Pushing him into the alley and against the wall, and Will’s eyes flare, a leer on his mouth, lopsided and taunting.
Killian doesn’t want to taste the bitterness of his fate, not anymore, so he chases the taste of whiskey on Will’s lips instead.
“Fuck, yes,” Will slurs against his mouth, and his hands grab at Killian’s jacket, tilting his head back for the drag of Killian’s lips at his throat. “Let’s do this, c’mon.”
Sounding just as frustrated, just as desperate for distraction as Killian feels, and he kisses Will again to shut him up. Scrabbling at the fly of his jeans, and his hand, his cursed hand, drops lower, squeezes Will’s cock through the fabric just to enjoy his groan.
Will’s movements are sloppy, uncoordinated, but Killian’s hands, both of them, make quick work of the buttons that separate them. Flesh against flesh makes them both grunt, pushing closer, and Killian’s cursed hand wraps around both their cocks, holding them flush together. Biting at Will’s lip as he strokes them both, as their hips buck and thrust, frantic and brutal pace set by Killian’s anger, by the hungry sounds Will can’t hold back.
He doesn’t know this man, he doesn’t want to. But Will feels good against him, solid and male, one hand fisting in the back of Killian’s jacket, the other on his arse. Urging him on, and this must be hurting him, his back scraping against the bricks. But maybe Will wants that pain, and Killian’s hands squeezes tighter without his permission, making him moan and shiver, his forehead dropping against Will’s shoulder as he fucks his own fist. It’s tight enough to hurt, but that makes it better, makes it easier to shut everything else out.
Killian surrenders to it, lets his hand take over, moving as it wants. If he’s to be haunted by its cruelty, at least he can be allowed to find some pleasure in its touch.
