CS + yoga (pants).
Um. Apparently I got carried away with this one. It also went from complete smut in my head to this schmoop you find here.
~2500 words/Captain Swan AU
Hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon.
Long, hot, steam-filled showers.
The mixtapes Henry makes her.
The satisfying click of handcuffs closing around a skip’s wrists.
These are all things Emma Swan knows she likes. They’re things she knows can bring their own form of peace when her thoughts get away from her, when the day is too long, or when she feels a pang of loneliness in her chest.
Standing at her back window, pressing the rim of her coffee mug to her lips, she’s beginning to think she should add the sight of Liam Jones’ brother in a pair of yoga pants to that list. It’s probably a sign that she needs to get out, scratch an itch, have a drink, anything but continue to low-key stalk the brother of her landlord. Instead, she continues to stand there, not drinking her coffee, as she watches him crouch next to Henry and point at one of the knobs on the camera slung around her kid’s neck.
She should probably worry about her son befriending a man she doesn’t know, but his t-shirt is creeping up as the band crinkles at his waist, exposing the dimples at the base of his spine. And with them, all rational thought is lost to her need to lick along them, to find out whether he tastes as good as he smells.
Not that she’s catalogued how he smells or anything.
Then he’s standing again and she’s stuck on the drape of the fabric against the curve of his ass and the line of his hips as he makes his way to the back door of Liam’s apartment.
She definitely needs to get out.