Archive of Our Own

"What? Again? Is this the only way you can find a woman, by arresting her?"

There's a half second, maybe less, where he just stares at her and Emma blinks. No. Really? She's on the verge of some version of, 'oh my god, are you kidding me right now? you really can't?' when he reddens, clears his throat, and holds up the handcuffs.

"Please? Let's not make this any harder than it has to be."

Folding her arms, Emma smirks at him and lets that do the talking. He's a blusher. She had that figured from go and he seems quick enough. It won't take him long to catch on to this one, or at least it shouldn't.

It doesn't. He rewards her admirably. It takes a second or so for him to catch on to the silent innuendo, but then his ears turn a little pink and a flush creeps its way up his neck. The beard hides a lot, but not as much as he'd like and it's a little funny.

"You know," she says, still smirking, "for someone who spends his days in the mayor's pocket, you are remarkably lacking in guile. How has she not eaten you alive yet?"

She watches him watch her. The fact his thumb rubs a lazy pattern back and forth across the handcuffs is promising. Maybe just a little guile then after all. Interesting. She thinks of Henry's stories and almost laughs. Perhaps he's a candidate for Big Bad Wolf. The company he keeps would point in that general direction.

"You know, I get it, she's your boss, a little terrifying, and you have to do what she tells you," Emma turns around, presenting her wrists with her best attempt at a coy smile, "but you can't tell me there isn't a part of you that isn't loving this."

The metal of the handcuffs slides around her wrists, cold to the touch, and a sharp contrast to the feeling of his fingers, definitely not cold, and the lean length of him behind her as he cinches them shut. "I assure you, Miss Swan, I'm enjoying absolutely nothing about this."

He lays one hand flat against her back, walking her toward the door with more care than the average Big Bad Wolf would show. Well, then, back to the drawing board.

"No?" she asks, watching the line of his shoulders when he leans past her to open the door. "Absolutely nothing? I'll try not to be crushed."

Graham grins and guides her through the door. "You shouldn't be," he says, practically purring out the words. She tries to ignore the way the sound of it runs through her and concentrates on staying still. He's not done yet and she has a feeling the payoff will be worth it.

It is.

He leans in, the flutter of his breath against her ear as he murmurs, "I'd much rather they be on me."

Emma tips her head back to grin at him. "I'll keep that in mind."

The look he gives her suggests she won't be the only one.

Good, she can work with that.