Emma took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swarm of whatever it was writhing in her stomach, the recoil of which was sending flutters up through her chest. It was ridiculous really. She was a professional, not a swooning fan girl. So what if her co-star happened to be an actor who’d taken center stage in more than one of her fantasies before she found out they’d been cast opposite one another? So what if they had to shoot a passionate love scene later that day? Right now it was just a blocking rehearsal, and so help her she needed to get her shit together if she hoped to come out of this movie with any sense of dignity.
The golf cart tasked with transporting her from her trailer to the remote location where they’d be shooting today’s scene rolled to a stop at the bottom of the hill. Hiking up the heavy skirts of her western costume, Emma trudged up the slope with an aide at each elbow, ensuring she didn’t pull a Jill and go tumbling back down it.
“Morning, Swan,” Killian greeted in a thick tone, his evident fatigue over the early morning call time wrapping around his words.
“Morning,” she answered back, internally high fiving herself that the word came out without any hint of the nerves doing somersaults in her belly. Now she just had to try and keep those feelings at bay while straddling the man’s lap all morning.
Which is exactly where she found herself moments later, once the director had finished talking through things with the crew.
“If you wanted to get close to me, all you had to do was ask,” Killian cheeked. “No need to use the rehearsal as an excuse.”
Emma rolled her eyes and focused on what the director was saying, using the voluminous amounts of skirt to hide the fact she wasn’t actually making contact with her costar.
“Emma, I need you to scoot a little closer to Killian for me,” the lighting technician instructed.
She complied, avoiding Killian’s eyes as she shifted her body forward.
“Can you get a little lower?” the tech asked. “You’re too high up for the light. Are you where you plan to be during the scene?”
No, Emma mused. During the scene she’d be grinding against the solidly built eye candy beneath her, and as much as her character was scripted to enjoy that, Emma wasn’t quite ready to get that much into character just yet.
“You can put your full weight on me, love,” Killian encouraged. “I promise you won’t break me.”
“Is that a challenge?” The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. She closed her eyes briefly in mortification, willing the heat she could feel rising up her chest to halt its ascent towards her face.
Killian’s chest rumbled and a chuckle sounded from the back of his throat. “Well, I do so love a challenge.” He offered her a wink when she opened her eyes and they both turned their attentions back to the rehearsal.
“I think she has too many skirts,” the director sighed several minutes later when Emma failed to be able to get as close to her co-star as she was being directed to. “They’re bunching up too much, we can’t get a good shot through all that fabric.”
The costumer helped Emma to her feet so she could shed some of the underskirts of the costume. Killian smirked up at her as several pairs of hands began yanking yards of fabric off her body.
“You know, it makes for a nice change to have someone assist me in getting a lass naked,” he quipped.
“Woah there, cowboy,” Emma shot back with a smirk of her own. “No one is actually getting naked.”
Killian’s over the top flirting was actually helping Emma remain cool, calm, and collected under the circumstances. In truth, there really wasn’t anything sexy about shooting a sex scene. It was all blocked, directed, critiqued, and filmed from angle after angle after angle. By the end of it, Emma usually had cramped muscles from being in one position too long, or having to perform the same motion over and over again with the added benefit of chapped lips from all the staged kissing. Was it awkward? Yes. But she appreciated that Killian was doing all he could to keep the mood light for them, while remaining professional.
“Okay, let’s try it again, shall we?”
Emma resumed her position, straddling Killian’s lap as he leaned against the trunk of the old oak their characters would be resting under before their actions turned… steamy. She playfully flicked up the brim of his bowler hat, earning her a quick smile before something in his demeanor changed.
“Right.” The director called back everyone’s focus, walking them through the scene and all the shots and angles they’d be utilizing. As she listened, all concern for the change in her co-star slipped into the back of Emma’s mind. “At this point,” he continued, reaching the part of the script where things between the characters reached their climax… literally. “We’ll be using a two camera shot so we can get each of the actor’s points of view at the same time. Emma, could you rock back and forth like you plan to so we can make sure we keep all your actions in frame?”
Emma braced herself against Killian’s shoulders and started going through the motions her character would employ during the actual scene. Killian’s hands were at her hips, helping to steady her, but his eyes were cast to the side and something of a pained expression flickered over his features. She was about to ask if she was hurting him when she felt… it. The cause of his discomfort was steadily growing from where her pelvis kept hitting him each time she rolled her hips, per their director’s oversight. Emma had to refrain from biting her lip, the impressive length hardening against her threatening to pull both a moan and a giggle from her simultaneously.
By the time the director called an end to the rehearsal, the tips of Kilian’s ears were beet red. Fortunately, the position of his character’s hat perched atop them kept that fact hidden from the crew. Emma wasn’t sure how he planned to keep other affected parts of himself hidden once she climbed off his lap, though. She sat there for a moment after the director dismissed her and Killian. He told the crew to get everything reset for the actual take, which they’d do a bit later when the natural afternoon light was at its peak, and Emma used the time of the crew’s distraction to have some mercy on her poor co-star who still couldn’t meet her eye.
“Could someone help me up?” Emma called out to the aides standing by. Once on her feet, she told them she needed a second before moving further. “My legs fell asleep,” she fibbed, shaking out her remaining skirt so it covered Killian’s lap. Finally, his blue eyes snapped up to her and she offered him a small smile before pretending to try and put feeling back into her extremities. Killian’s head fell back against the tree trunk, the chords of his neck straining as he swallowed, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths Emma knew he was employing in order to exert some control over himself.
The sight of which wasn’t doing much for her own control.
After a few moments he gave her a small nod and she told the aides she was ready to go. Without a backward glance, Emma made her way down the hill and back to the golf cart, ready to have a few moments to herself in her trailer.
Unfortunately, the knock at her door soon after she’d settled in meant someone had other ideas.
Emma stood when Killian sheepishly entered, his hand pawing at a patch of skin behind his still pink ears.
“Sorry to disturb you, Swan. I just wanted to… that is.” He paused, clearly unsure of how to proceed, and Emma couldn’t help the laugh building in her chest. For all that cocky bravado he projected, it was adorable how a mishap with his actual cock could make it vanish so quickly.
“Would now be a good time to ask if that was a prop pistol in your pocket, or were you just happy to see me?”
Killian’s eyes shut and his shoulders slumped in embarrassment even as a smile twitched at his lips and a gleam of mischief twinkled in his eyes after he’d opened them once more.
“I appreciate the levity, love,” he said with an amused huff. “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.” A piece of Emma’s heart dropped, one she hadn’t been aware actually held a sliver of hope that their relationship might evolve beyond that of colleagues. “I value you as a scene partner, and would never want to do anything that might offend or disrespect you. I don’t know why I couldn’t seem to stay professional during rehearsal, but I promise you tha-”
Emma stopped his ramblings with a raise of her hand. “Killian, really, it’s fine. It happens to the best of us. Sometimes our bodies don’t get the memo that we’re acting. I’m not upset with you.” She lowered her hand and stepped forward, just shy of his personal space. “I know your professionalism is important to you, just like mine is to me. You don’t have to explain anything to me. I totally get it.”
Killian heaved a sigh of relief and nodded. “Thank you, Swan. Rest assured I’ll have myself in full control of… things when we reconvene to shoot the scene.”
He let himself out of her trailer and Emma settled back onto her sofa, picking up her script to go over her lines while she waited for the call to report to set. The words blended together on the page, though. Not that it mattered. She had them all memorized backwards and forwards. She probably shouldn’t be overthinking it too much anyway. There was such a thing as being too prepared. Too rehearsed. She didn’t want the scene to come off as forced.
Especially when there would probably be an added awkwardness from Killian’s earlier reaction during the blocking rehearsal. Not that he needed to worry about it. Emma had meant it when she’d said it happened to the best of them. How many times had her heart rate jumped from the way he’d delivered his lines with that sultry western accent? She’d lost count of the number of breaths lost to the way his forget-me-not eyes flicked over her - in and out of character - and had missed more than one cue to the distraction of how well his costume fit and the way his forearms looked with his shirt sleeves rolled up, especially when he drew that prop pistol or returned it to its holster.
The man had amazing forearms and hands.
And that chest. Too bad he’d be keeping his shirt on during their love scene. She wouldn’t mind having a reason to run her fingers through that tantalizing chest hair he usually had on display in his everyday life. At least it was scripted for her character to remove his hat so she could grab onto those luscious locks while she rode him off into the sunset. Their bodies pressed together with hands clinging to one another and their mouths searching out every inch of the limited bared skin their western attire afforded them.
Dear God, had someone left the heat on in her trailer?
Emma was about to literally fan herself with the script now clutched tightly in her hands when another knock sounded and the voice of her PA told her it was time to go. She took a few calming breaths and smoothed out the wrinkles in her overskirt (the only skirt that remained after they’d shed the excess from her earlier) before exiting the trailer with her pulse still slightly elevated.
Get a grip, Swan, she admonished herself. You can’t head into a love scene all hot and bothered. Focus, and stay professional.
That would prove easier said than done.
Emma had almost managed to rein in her libido by the time they’d finished shooting the dialogued portion of the scene, but the moment JJ pulled her onto his lap and branded her lips with a kiss, Emma knew she was in trouble.
It may not have been a real kiss, but the soft, supple nature of his lips was real enough. The way they nipped and tugged at hers, the sounds he was manufacturing from the back of his throat, his hands practically burning through the fabric of her dress where they were gripping her waist made it all to easy for her to get into character and flick the bowler hat off his head so she could card her fingers through his hair, a number of less than manufactured moans of her own being added to the soundtrack the boom mic was collecting from overhead.
By the time the director called cut she was practically panting.
“Okay, let’s reset and get ready to do that again from the second angle.”
Oh, God. They had to do that again.
“You alright, love?” Killian questioned with concerned brows. “You seem a tad breathless.”
“Um… I think the corset might be too tight. It’s fine, though. I’m fine.”
They shot the sequence again, then moved on to the simulated sex part. A couple different angles of her undoing his pants, too many takes than should have been necessary of her… mounting him, and finally, the part where their characters were fully engrossed in the pleasure of one another, working themselves up to that final climactic shot.
Emma hadn’t expect for that shot to be quite so… authentic.
She might have been able to hold on to some shred of control if Killian hadn’t started to respond physically as well. When she felt him go rigid beneath her there wasn’t much she could do to avoid actually grinding against him. She swore a few of those grunts and pants weren’t from his character and the utterly wrecked look on his face before they started the final take left her totally abandoned to her body’s desires.
His mouth left a hot trail along the column of her neck. The tendons of his were stretched taut. The friction of his hardened length along her throbbing core was too much and not nearly enough. She gripped his shoulders tighter when the swell of impending release started to crest from deep within. Her head fell back and a silent cry escaped the parting of her lips when the full wave of ecstasy crashed over her. Words were being murmured into her ear, but she had no idea what they were, only recognized them as Killian’s.
Killian holding her tight. Killian rocking up into her, drawing out the pleasure she wasn’t supposed to be experiencing right now, but had fantasized about so many times. Killian’s breath against her neck. Killian’s accent slipping back and forth between his natural one and the one he’d crafted for his character, expressing things she knew couldn’t be dialogue because they’d already gone through the scene so many times before.
She shuddered and collapsed against him, her mind screaming and her body listless. She tried to process what had just happened, tried to focus on the things she thought Killian was still trying to tell her, but it wasn’t until she heard the director call cut that words had any meaning to her at all.
“I think we got it! That’s a wrap, people!” the director said, causing Emma’s heart to nearly stop and sending a shooting pain through her chest from the interruption to its already frantic pace.
Did that really just happen?
Emma looked down at Killian, who was staring up at her with eyes clouded over and lips sticking at their corners, keeping his mouth from fully falling open.
Oh, my God. He knows. Who else realized it hadn’t been fake?
Emma discreetly looked around, but no one was paying either of the actors much attention. It seemed, saved for the man still hard and just as breathless as she was, no one knew she’d just come on camera like a porn star. Or did they fake it, too?
“Swan?” Killian exhaled, the strained tone in his voice sending a surge of panic through her.
He must be so pissed at me right now. I’ve got to get out of here.
Emma clambered to her feet, but nearly lost her balance from the boneless quality in her legs. Two aides rushed forward to steady her and Killian’s arms shot out to assist as well.
“Legs fall asleep again?” one of the aides asked with a chuckle.
“Something like that,” Emma muttered.
She insisted on their help in getting her to the golf cart, ignoring Killian’s gaze and the micro tremors of pleasure that kept coursing through her system. She calmed herself down by the time she’d finished in wardrobe and had returned to her trailer, enough that a vice grip of shame now had a healthy grip on her gut. Pouring herself a large glass of wine, she slumped onto her sofa and took a large swallow.
She as good as violated Killian. There was no other way to define it. Would he file a formal complaint? Threaten to walk if she wasn’t held responsible for her unethical and potentially criminal actions? All that talk of how she valued her professionalism was like ash in her mouth; a mouth that could still taste the salt of his neck and spearmint of the gum he’d been chewing before they’d started shooting.
Emma groaned and slipped further down against the cushions. Her career was over and she was going to hell.
Another gulp of wine slid down her throat, large enough to spread a soothing burn through her chest.
Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe Killian wouldn’t be angry enough to make a big deal out of this. Maybe if she just went and apologized, tried to explain?
How the hell do you explain accidentally getting off on camera with a dozen or so crew looking on?
She couldn’t even understand how she’d allowed it to get so far out of hand, much less try and put it into words that wouldn’t sound like…
Like she’d enjoyed every fucking moment of it.
Emma deposited her head in her hands and groaned.
She was so screwed.
A banging on her trailer door jolted her and her anxiety spiked over the prospect of who might be waiting on the other side. When the door swung open revealing Killian in his tight jeans, a black tee, and signature leather jacket, she took a few guilty steps back.
“Before you say anything,” she began with pleading as he strode into her trailer and closed the door firmly behind him. “Let me just say how sorry I am for--”
Killian cut off her words with his mouth, searing a kiss upon her lips that threatened to ignite her soul before murmuring, “That was, by far and away, the most bloody erotic thing I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing, and I would very much like to bear witness to it again, love. This time whilst actually buried deep inside you.”
Emma wrenched back in surprise. “You’re… you’re not angry?”
“Swan, do you have any idea how many times I’ve dreamed of having you fall apart in my arms? Why the bloody hell would I be angry?”
“Oh, thank God!”
Emma lunged back into his embrace, plastering herself against his chest and meeting his lips for another toe-curling kiss. Their hands worked in a frenzy. Hers pushed his jacket from his shoulders and down his arms before peeling his shirt off and running themselves through the coarse hair they’d been itching to feel while his stripped off her tank top and jeans.
“Do you have something on you?” she panted against his throat, steering him towards the sofa.
“Aye. In my wallet.”
Reluctantly, he untangled his fingers from her hair so she could retrieve the condom. Bending at the waist she made a show of searching through his discarded jeans, giving him an enticing view of her assets before he groaned and informed her his wallet was actually in the inside pocket of his jacket.
With the foil packet tucked between her fore and middle finger, she extended it towards him and teased, “Saddle up, Partner. You’re in for a rough ride.”
His eyes darkened, and it was now his turn to display his previously concealed attributes, slipping his boxer briefs down his legs before sitting on her sofa so he could roll the condom down that hardened length she’d already become somewhat familiar with.
Transfixed, Emma watched Killian’s fingers deftly glide the protection into place, his cock thick and red with anticipation that must have been throbbing and aching in his groin all day. Once the condom was in place, Killian reached out for her.
“Your steed awaits, love. Time to mount up.” His brows twitched along his forehead and his tongue pressed deviously against the back of his teeth.
“Don’t you mean, my Sneed?” Emma quipped, evoking the name of Killian’s character and reminding him of the inside joke going around set about everyone’s Need for Sneed.
“You know what they say, Swan,” Killian purred as she straddled his hips. “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy.”
Emma intended to ride him, alright. Just as soon as she had her stallion ready.
Their lips crashed together and Emma ran her wet core over his sheathed length, coating him with her arousal before lining him up so she could sink down over him. She gasped and his head fell back, his fingers digging into her hip, increasing in pressure until he was completely seated within her. Swiveling her hips caused his eyes to roll back in his head before they clamped shut. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he opened his eyes and fixed their heated, lust filled gaze upon her.
Rotating her hips again pulled a growl from him and he shot forward, taking one her nipples between his teeth and flicking it mercilessly with his tongue. The rush of pleasure rippling over her skin from the luxurious pain ignited her nerve endings and forced her hips to buck against his.
A firm slap stung her backside. “Ride me, Swan,” Killian commanded into the soft valley of her breasts as he turned his attention to the neglected nipple. His hands gripped her waist and began prompting her into action. An action she was more than happy to put forth the effort into.
Her trailer echoed with the sound of their skin slapping together as she bounced on his lap, the pounding of his member against that particular spot sent sparks skittering through her in search of the fuse that would surely set off another series of explosions, engulfing them both in a combustion of desire they’d both evidently been suppressing.
“Fuck, Emma,” Killian groaned, his back arching and chest heaving with stuttered breaths. “Tell me you’re close. I don’t want to come without you.”
“I’m close,” she assured him. “I’m close… so close...so--”
Her body seized from the impact of her orgasm, shocking her system with convulsions she’d never experienced before. Killian pulled her into his chest and continued to thrust up into her, chasing his own release with vocalized breaths that intensified in volume and urgency until a choked grunt caught in the back of his throat. His cock pulsed and his hips jerked erratically as he emptied himself into the condom, each motion sending an aftershock of pure bliss through Emma’s extremities.
“One wild ride?” Emma offered with a weary but sated smile.
Killian chuckled. “Aye. That it was. And most enjoyable, too.”
“So you don’t mind being rode hard and put up wet?”
“What?” he responded with a tone of false scandal. “No blanket and a nice brushing to soothe my sore muscles?”
“I might have a packet of oats in here somewhere if you really wanna keep going with this roleplay.”
Killian’s chest rumbled, causing Emma to giggle and sit up. She could feel him start to slip from her, and moved so he could take care of the condom before it made a further mess of them. He collected his clothes on the way to her small bathroom, giving her an eyeful of his adorably delicious fuzzy cheeks. As much hair as he had covering his body, a good brushing might not be out of the question.
Emma had just finished dressing when Killian emerged from the bathroom, also fully clothed. Pity, her mind supplied in Killian’s cheeky accent. He was scratching behind his ear again, his jacket slung over his shoulder and his hair mussed by her hands. She reached up and tried to tame the mane, but there was only so much she could do when his eyelids fluttered like that.
Her focus was pulled from the wisps of Killian’s hair by both of their phones alerting them to a group text.
“Seems they need us back on set,” Killian stated with furrowed brows. “Something about needing to do a reshoot of some sections of the scene.”
Emma’s cheeks burned as a blush reddened them. “Well, at least we got all that pent up sexual frustration out of our system so I don’t give a repeat performance,” she groused.
Killian pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “Hmmm. I’m willing to wager I can get an encore out of you.”
“No way.” Emma shook her head, a look of challenge firmly set on her features.
“Oooo,” he cooed. “Them’s fightin’ words.”
And they were, indeed. However, despite his best efforts, this time it was Killian who yippee ki yay’d on camera.