Mary Margaret/Emma - desk
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Snow/Emma
Rating: NC-17 (to be safe?)
Prompt: desk
Word Count: 250
There was a couch in the station. Plenty of chairs around. There were two perfectly good mattresses in the cells if Emma was so inclined.
But no.
Most times they did not end up on a soft surface, they ended up using a desk.
Nine times out of ten Mary Margaret found herself shoved backwards across Emma's wooden desk, skirt hiked up around her waist, underwear god knew where, with her feet braced against the back of Emma's desk chair.
Because no, she wasn't allowed a soft surface when the sheriff was in the mood, but Emma had no problem staying in her cushy seat.
A problem she couldn't really focus on when the reward for being shoved backwards on a hard desk covered in random items was Emma's mouth on her, greedy and unrelenting, licking and sucking, teeth worrying against Mary Margaret's clit until she was biting her lip to keep from moaning too loudly; to keep from screaming.
In the station, on Emma's desk, in her office, Emma was always in charge. An unwritten rule that they both abided by. The rest of the station was open but her office, her domain? Purely Emma.
“How long do you think you can stay silent for?” Emma teased, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, enjoying the ability to take charge for a little while.
“Longer than you can last.” Mary Margaret retorted, fingers curled around the edge of the desk.
It was a challenge Emma couldn't resist.
Pairing: Snow/Emma
Rating: NC-17 (to be safe?)
Prompt: desk
Word Count: 250
There was a couch in the station. Plenty of chairs around. There were two perfectly good mattresses in the cells if Emma was so inclined.
But no.
Most times they did not end up on a soft surface, they ended up using a desk.
Nine times out of ten Mary Margaret found herself shoved backwards across Emma's wooden desk, skirt hiked up around her waist, underwear god knew where, with her feet braced against the back of Emma's desk chair.
Because no, she wasn't allowed a soft surface when the sheriff was in the mood, but Emma had no problem staying in her cushy seat.
A problem she couldn't really focus on when the reward for being shoved backwards on a hard desk covered in random items was Emma's mouth on her, greedy and unrelenting, licking and sucking, teeth worrying against Mary Margaret's clit until she was biting her lip to keep from moaning too loudly; to keep from screaming.
In the station, on Emma's desk, in her office, Emma was always in charge. An unwritten rule that they both abided by. The rest of the station was open but her office, her domain? Purely Emma.
“How long do you think you can stay silent for?” Emma teased, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, enjoying the ability to take charge for a little while.
“Longer than you can last.” Mary Margaret retorted, fingers curled around the edge of the desk.
It was a challenge Emma couldn't resist.