#cs smuff

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "Melting for You"

It's been a bit since I've done a Self Promo Sunday post, but with the weather heating and well into summer this one shot came to mind, and it seemed like the right one for this week to get them going again. I wish we had a few more steamy CS pics to work with to make a cover art, but I still gave it a go. If this is new to you, I hope you'll enjoy, and if it's a repeat maybe you'll find it fun to revisit.

Summary: When Emma decides to tease an overheated pirate, soon she's the one burning up... A Post Season 6 canon divergent ff, with CS enjoying their happy beginning

Can also be found on AO3 if that's your preference...

by: @snowbellewells

Even indoors the air was heavy and oppressive - especially for June - and Emma Swan gave herself a mental pat on the back for even being out of her recliner nearest the air conditioning vent in the old, high-ceiling house that could be expensive to sufficiently cool. She tended to covet a day like this - off from the station, Henry out with friends, no one needing anything from her, and a backlog of her favorite crime procedurals ready in her streaming queue - chuckling to herself about deserving some sort of Savior Above and Beyond medal for being in the kitchen tackling a sink of dirty dishes.

Normally, she’d just put them in the dishwasher, but the last clean load had never been taken back out and put away - one of Henry’s designated jobs - and her husband, loving and fond of her son as he was, was still a captain through and through, determined for each member of his crew to pull their weight. Emma, on the other hand, while not as worried about the degree of neatness Killian would prefer, was just stubborn enough not to do her kid’s chores for him. Henry had been busy lately; finals, college applications and other genuine responsibilities taking up the bulk of his time, but she trusted him to get to it when he could. Though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, the real reason she didn’t put the clean dishes away was because she didn’t understand Killian’s precise method for storing all the various pots, pans, containers, and baking sheets; inevitably, when she tried to unload the dishwasher alone, she ended up with numerous things she couldn’t find a place for strewn across the kitchen’s center island and more of a mess than she’d started with.

It just wasn’t worth the hassle.

So, here she stood, sweating over a sink full of hot, soapy water, feeling loose tendrils of hair begin to curl around her face in the humidity, just trying to make sure they had enough clean spoons and to-go mugs for their coffee the next morning and cursing the 90 degree heat and the ceiling fan not doing an adequate job of getting the cooler air to her as her shirt began to feel stuck to her skin between her shoulder blades.

At least she had a good view. 

Emma smirked to herself, eyes lighting up once again as she refocused from the charred bits of pizza crust she’d slightly burnt onto a pan and back out the window over the sink. She wasn’t sure how her husband could stand it outside, and he’d been at it for at least a couple hours at this point, but as she took in the scene before her, Emma couldn’t help thinking that at this moment, his discomfort was a cross she was willing to bear.

Standing up straighter, running her forearm across her face, she dazedly allowed her hands to drip across the counter as she studied him more closely, almost forgetting where she was. Killian was wearing dark, stained denim jeans he often used when out of doors and not on his ship, along with a thin, gray T-shirt, stretched and faded with holes in places, but more than serviceable for working around the house and yard. She could see the muscles in his back and shoulders straining and bunching through the nearly threadbare material easily, and hardly realized she’d unconsciously licked her lips at the decadent sight.

As she continued to shamelessly spy on her fine pirate, Killian stretched his arms up overhead, clearly working out some of the kinks from his exertions, then to her eternal delight, raised the hem of his T-shirt to mop sweat from his brow. She could see a band of tanned, flushed skin on his lower back, unknowingly tantalizing her as she stared, unable to blink or look away. Then, as if that hadn’t been enough, he slowly peeled the taut fabric up his torso and off over his head before tossing it to the side.

She knew her breath went a bit shallow at the sight of his whole back bared to her while Killian stood for several long moments catching his breath. At this point, her sudsy hands were clutching the edge of the sink while her knees went watery at the show he was putting on inadvertently. The expanse of his skin was marred in places by lines almost white from the time gone by since they had been inflicted, and high on his left shoulder a compass sat, bearing the name ‘Liam’ along its edge, while the dark tentacles of a kraken curled surreptitiously along his rib cage on his right side. The dark and light took not one iota from his swarthy perfection though, not to her eyes. In fact, if she had been overwarm before, she was burning up now; the sight of his whole torso practically glistening in the bright afternoon sun making her weak. She was seized with the almost uncontrollable desire to go out there and started licking the salty moisture from his skin with her tongue.

If she didn’t know better, she would think he was purposely trying to tempt her. 

Wait… did she know better? Emma paused, tilted her head to one side in thought. She’d told him when he’d gone outside that she was kicking back to watch some tv. But Killian could be scarily prescient of everyone around him, alert without even trying. Did he know she was watching; and, if so, was he teasing her?

Eyes narrowing, she thought for a second, feeling more than a bit devious as she considered her rapscallion husband and just what mischief he might have on his mind. She could almost picture him scoffing about getting her riled up; his brow arched just so, tongue poking against the inside of his lower lip, practically leering at her, knowing she couldn’t resist him at the best of times, and absolutely using it to his advantage. What she needed, Emma decided, a twinkle coming into her eye as the perfect plan of attack took shape in her mind, was to get him back, while appearing completely innocent. Get him flustered and as hot and bothered as he was making her. Turning off the tap and quickly drying her hands on a towel nearby, she grabbed a large glass from the cabinet to her left, then opened the freezer for ice - and her chosen secret weapon.

Strolling outside, Emma tried her best to school her expression, knowing a twitch of mischievous humor or devilish twinkle would give her away. Her pirate still read her like a book - knew her every feature more minutely than anyone else had ever bothered to try - even more so after years together. He’d catch any slip and be on the alert.

Killian turned to look at her, just as she drew up beside him. Reaching out to trail the hand holding an ice cold glass of water down his damp, overheated bicep, she fought to hold in the smirk as her husband let his head fall backwards, nearly growling in pleasure. The unrelenting heat had the glass already covered in condensation, and the warmth radiating from Killian as well after working so long in the sun, meant the cool moisture had to feel heavenly.

Eyeing her with both adoration and curiosity, her captain made Emma’s own inner thermostat raise a tick as well when he licked the perspiration from his upper lip. “May I assume that’s for me, Love?”

“Yep,” she replied, letting the ‘p’ pop distinctly, just as he often did when alluring her with his speech. “I thought it was time to bring you some water. Can’t have my True Love getting dehydrated, after all.”

He raised a brow, as if wondering why she seemed so enthusiastic, but he took the glass from her eagerly, seemingly deciding just to accept the gesture with thanks. Of course, as his Adam's apple bobbed with his greedy swallows of the cool, refreshing liquid, it was Emma who found her throat working desperately to gain more air.

For a second, she almost forgot her plan in the wake of the tantalizing distraction he made, before she regained focus and hurried to unwrap what she held in her other hand.

While Killian’s eyes were still closed savoring the last of his drink, Emma quickly stuffed the wrapper of an ice cream bar in her cutoff jean pockets and began to lick the chocolate coating, enjoying the sweet taste, but also waiting for the moment she would feel the sizzle of his eyes on her once more.

“Here you go, Love,” Killian’s voice spoke up as she felt him turn toward her, just as she enveloped the whole tip of the ice cream bar between her lips. “That truly hit the sp - “

His words died on his tongue as he got an eyeful of what she was doing, though Emma avoided looking back just yet, knowing the glee she was feeling would give her away. ‘Gotcha, Pirate!’ she couldn’t help gloating in her mind.

Humming slightly as if she was only focused on how delicious her frozen treat tasted, Emma was inwardly high fiving herself after shooting a quick sidelong glance at her husband to see him looking as though he had swallowed his own tongue. The empty glass he’d moved to hand back to her fell to the ground from his suddenly lax fingers, and when she heard him speak again, his words were a hoarse whisper. “Gods above, Swan, are you trying to kill me?”

“Of course not,” she chirped happily, winking at him with what she hoped was breezy nonchalance. “Just enjoying some refreshment myself.” She then popped the treat back into her mouth, pointedly hollowing her cheeks a bit, then pulling it back out while letting her tongue trail along the rapidly melting chocolate coating.

‘And now the final touch,’ she thought, turning her head back toward the porch and deliberately putting more swing in her hips than normal. “Bring that glass with you when you come back in, okay Babe?” she tossed over her shoulder, with one brief backward glance that she hoped managed to be sultry.

Congratulating herself, even as just the short amount of time she’d been outside was beginning to make her sweat too and the vanilla insides of her ice cream began to drip down her hand, Emma had nearly reached the outdoor water spigot and attached hose by the porch steps, which seemed a good place to finish her dessert and wash off the stickiness, when she heard heavy steps coming up behind her rapidly. ‘Right on cue, ’ her mind practically crowed.

In the next moment, Killian’s strong, muscled arm snaked around her stomach and jerked her back firmly against the front of his body. Holding her tightly, his teeth nipped her earlobe before he purred a seductive warning against her neck. “It’s cruel to tease a man like that, Minx - not if you don’t intend to share a taste.”

Impishly, Emma held up the rapidly shrinking bit of ice cream left on the stick, as if in offering. However, when he dove in to swipe his tongue up the side of her hand and engulf both the melting treat and the tips of her fingers in the warm, wet cavern of his mouth, she willingly let go. His eyes were pure blue flames that wouldn’t allow her to blink, turning her bones and sinew to liquid more than the heat outside could have ever managed.

Emma was leaning into him breathlessly, mind going blank at the way he pulled his lips back off her fingers, laving her skin playfully as he leaned away, the self-satisfied gleam in his eyes along with the heat telling her all too well that he knew what he was doing. Winking devilishly, he stepped away slightly, making her nearly stumble as her body strained to follow, a soft whine leaving her throat completely against her will. 

“Hmm…” he purred, baiting her now, sensing victory no doubt. “Just as I thought - delicious.”

Emma’s misfiring synapses crackled back to life as he stood there, just out of reach, clearly waiting for his wife’s next move, and almost certainly counting on her being unable to resist.

Her chest heaved, trying to get a full breath and bring herself under control. She’d had the upper hand! She was so sure she’d have him begging - just this once. But she was flushed and sweating every bit as much as Killian now. That sinful way he was tracing her bare legs with his gaze, and the feel of his mouth on her, however briefly, had been all it had taken to send her temperature soaring beyond all reason.

“You don’t play fair, Captain,” she chided, her voice low and her own teasing smile finally returning to her as it just tilted the corner of her lips.

Killian’s dark brow arched devastatingly in challenge, not about to be outdone. “Oh, and I suppose you think waltzing out here in those shorts that barely cover your knickers and shamelessly teasing me was fair play?”

There was no good comeback, and Emma knew it. She’d been messing with him from the start, and neither of them had any doubts on that score. However, it was just then she remembered the hose and spigot right behind her. Using an innocent shrug of her shoulders and a toss of her blond hair she knew could often distract him - pirate indeed, her golden hair had always drawn his touch, he’d been brushing it over her shoulder since they had first climbed the beanstalk together - she managed to move back enough to reach behind her and turn on the water without him catching onto her actions. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” she sniffed, feigning insult. “I only brought you a cold drink. You looked like you needed…” she fumbled to grasp the hose quickly and pull it up into her hands “...to cool off!”

Without further warning, she pointed the nozzle at him, squeezed the handle and let fly, startling him with a blast of water right to the chest. Luckily, she’d managed to crank up the power enough to have a steady stream leaving the hose at full blast, and they kept it coiled in the shade of the porch, so she knew the spray rapidly soaking her husband was as ice cold as the sun beating down on them from above was burning hot.

Spluttering and yelping at the sudden, frigid onslaught, Killian’s pleased smirk dissolved as he threw up both arms in a helpless attempt to block the spray. She couldn’t help throwing her head back with a triumphant laugh and an emphatic “Gotcha!” escaping her lips. No part of her husband was getting out of this unscathed, she decided, aiming to soak him from head to toe while she had the upper hand. 

Unfortunately for her, the victory was short-lived. Adaptable and quick-thinking as ever, Killian had steeled himself against the cold blast and was inching closer amidst laughter of his own and short exclamations at the bursts of chilled water hitting him.

Emma was about to relent in truth, the sight of Killian’s streams of eater running down his arms and sides and droplets clinging to his trim, well-defined chest and the enticing covering of matted dark hair across his taut chest muscles, was more than enough prize for her efforts. The handle actually faltered in her grip for a moment as her mouth fell open with her gawking.

 It was all the opening her pirate needed. 

Killian bounded forward, closing the slight distance left between them and deftly plucking the hose from her grip. The squelch of his feet on the wet grass and the slap of soaked denim against his legs were Emma’s only other warnings before the sharp, freezing spray was turned on her full blast in retaliation.

“Ahhh! Killian!” she screeched helplessly, the shock of the cold making her gasp, despite knowing she wasn’t going to get any more mercy than she herself had been willing to grant moments ago. Instead, she floundered forward, grabbing for the hand aiming the spray at her. They scuffled briefly, both only getting wetter and more winded, until - ridiculously tangled up with each other and the hose - they tumbled to the sodden grass in a heap of wriggling limbs.

At this point, both of them were laughing, hands rapidly smoothing over wet skin in delicious slides. The hose fell from Killian’s grip, easily forgotten, and the water splashed them both in a wild arc until it fell to the ground and stopped. The damage was long done anyway as they rolled together on the marshy ground, legs entwined and bodies beginning to move against each other deliciously, almost without thought in a deliciously familiar next move.

Unable to resist any longer, and far past teasing or trying to win their game, Emma’s hands stole to trace up his panting side, thrilling at the feel of his stomach muscles trembling where her fingertips swept over them. 

Killian was not idle as she worked feverishly, a low groan of pleasure escaping him as she stroked along the planes of his torso.  In the next moment, he dove in, pulling down the vee of her own shirt further and baring her breast before closing his mouth over the tight, alert bud warming and tormenting in equal measure with swipes of his wicked tongue.

She bucked up into him, keening and whimpering and wordlessly desperate to urge him on. After that, there was no time for words, merely pants of exertion, the occasional clacking of teeth, the slapping of damp skin on skin, and the smack of the rest of their soaking clothing frantically shed on the swampy ground around them. Soon they were moving in unison, Killian pushing forward, and her opening to pull him in, then clinging to him tightly for all she was worth.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later, as the evening shadows fell, a light breeze moved in, cooling the heavy air of the day. Emma’s eyes trailed languidly over the nude lines of her husband’s hip and side as he returned to her with water and slid back under the light blanket they had draped over their bodies as they snuggled skin to skin on the back porch. It hadn’t seemed worth bothering to get dressed again when they’d only adjourned as far as the porch before their kisses and touches and mischievous smiles led to them going again at an achingly slower, more luxurious pace on the porch glider while the sun had slowly dipped closer to the horizon. As Killian curled back around her and brought her hand up to kiss each one of her knuckles reverently, humming as he somehow found a sweet bit of leftover ice cream, Emma could only think it was lucky their porch faced nothing but the rocky coastline and the harbor beyond it. Not that she was ashamed of how quickly she had melted at his whim, but she didn’t need anyone else to get an eyeful.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64

@apiratewhopines @iamstartraveller776 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @teamhook

@revanmeetra87 @anmylica @xarandomdreamx @bluewildcatfanatic @xsajx @motherkatereloyshipper

@stahlop @mie779 @jonesfandomfanatic @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89

@darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @zaharadessert @booksteaandtoomuchtv @caught-in-the-filter

[spartanguard]

CS JJ, day 14: Another Cliched Mountain Lodge Romance Novel

Emma Swan, avid reader of romance novels, appreciates them for their vapid characters and incredibly unrealistic settings. She never imagined that she'd ever stumble into one—or that the man she'd find living alone in a mountain lodge would be the male lead in her own story. (Or how quickly it would escalate—and how okay with that she was.)  (Inspired by this post, and thanks to @optomisticgirl for the beta!)

4.6k | AO3 | Rated M for Mountain Lodge Lovin’ | for @csjanuaryjoy

Though she was an avid reader, Emma wasn’t one for the literary classics. Those were far too stuffy and time-consuming for her and her life. But romance novels—the kind in the checkout line at the supermarket, covered with pictures of over-muscled hunks draped with busty maidens—those were her guilty pleasure, and she hated that she loved them.

Maybe it was the vapid characters that she never got attached to, or the fantastical love scenes that were physically impossible but still arousing, but there was just something so wonderfully fake and cheesy about them that made it the perfect escape from her simple, solitary life.

And she’d read more than enough of them to know that, like it or not, she’d somehow wandered right into one.

It was her own damn fault for getting lost in the woods, she supposed, but it had been a perfect, crisp fall day and the leaves were the most brilliant red-gold against the blue autumn sky.

Until it grew later, with the color of the sky increasingly matching the color of the leaves, and one wrong step had her twisting her ankle on a knobby root, and she was way too far off the trail to even begin finding it while limping.

The sound of chopping wood made her jump at first, but it wasn’t far away and she was willing to risk whatever lumberjack forest person she would find if it meant not having to spend a night in the elements. She knew how to handle herself, after all, and she just needed a ride to her car.

But when she hobbled to the edge of the clearing, she wasn’t at all prepared for the idyllic sight in front of her—not in reality, at least. There was a picturesque log cabin, a trail of smoke coming out of the chimney and light coming from clear windows giving it a homey character. An older but well-maintained pickup truck sat in the driveway. And next to the house, chopping wood, was who she assumed to be its owner.

He was a lumberjack alright, dressed in a plaid flannel, well-worn jeans, and work boots, but where she was expecting Paul Bunyan or the Brawny man, she got the cover of one of her boudoir fantasies.

Tousled, short-cropped, dark hair framed a face that could only be described as ridiculously pretty: large blue eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, and a sharp jaw covered in gingery scruff looked completely out of place in this setting.

The strain of his back muscles against that blue plaid when he hefted an axe said otherwise, though, and the flex of his bicep was visible even from where she was, yards away. The fit of those jeans only highlighted his assets, and when he stood to take a breather, resting his axe on his shoulder, she got a view of the dark hair dusting his chest via the fair amount of undone buttons on his top.

She’d hit her head when she fell, surely. This had to be a hallucination, because all this scene was missing was the scent of a Mountain Lodge candle.

“Can I help you, lass?”

Oh good lord, he even had a British accent, with a tiny lilt of something else. Now she knew she was fantasizing.

“Lass?”

Oh right, he was talking to her, and now taking cautious steps toward her. She shook her head to bring herself back to the real world, and gingerly shuffled forward.

“Hi! Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I got lost and couldn’t get back to my car, so I was wondering if you could give me—”

“Are you hurt?” he cut her off, concern coloring his tone and furrowing his brow. He tossed the axe to the side and took longer strides to her.

“Oh, it’s nothing, just twisted my ankle, I’ll be fi...” She trailed off when he reached her, kneeling to inspect the damage—which was pretty evident by the way she wasn’t putting weight on it, but she knew she’d be fine once she got back to her car and home with her ice packs and wine.

He rose back up to his full height, a hand or so taller than her, and met her gaze. She was surprised to see a gentle look in his eyes—which were even bluer up close, a bit grayish even—and an expression on his face she could only assume was care; she’d only seen it a few times in her life, so it was almost jarring to see it on someone she’d just met. “Nonsense. I know this is a bit forward, but if you’ll allow me, I can tend to that for you.”

She wasn’t good at letting people get close, physically or otherwise. But she’d never encountered someone who wanted to help her so badly; despite his chivalrous, polite tone, she could see a genuine desire etched in his features. And the longer she waited to reply, she saw something else slip in, something she knew all too well: the fear of rejection and acceptance of solitude.

How many times had she seen that exact hurt countenance in the mirror? And suddenly, she realized that she may not even know his name, but she knew him, and suspected they had an awful lot in common.

“Okay,” she quietly replied, and the trepidation on his features melted into an affectionate smile that cut dimples into his scruff.

Then he went into action, moving to stand next to her, wrapping a strong arm under hers, and pulling her into his side. She hesitated a moment, suddenly feeling awkward, but an encouraging smile from him was all it took to wrap her arm around his back and shift her weight into him. He was warm and solid, but there was a softness that seemed to permeate from his soul.

“I’m Killian, by the way,” he finally introduced as they slowly set off. God, even his name was enticing.

“I’m Emma.”

She was still sure she was going to wake up from a really good dream as they moved closer to the cabin. They hadn’t gone far before he concluded it’d just be easier to carry her, despite her protestations (“I’ve carried felled trees heavier than you, love,” he threw back as he lifted her into his arms). Once inside, he gently placed her on a well-loved but plush sofa, propping her injured ankle on the ottoman, and then everything became kind of hazy as he removed her boots and tended to her with all the care and precision of a nurse. It was then she noticed the prosthetic in place of his left hand, but it didn’t appear to hold him back so she didn’t pay it much mind.

And then, with a warm, firm squeeze on her bandage-wrapped ankle, it was all done, and he was gazing up at her with a friendly grin that she couldn’t help but return. It faded, though, and she was surprised at how quickly she missed it and wanted to put it back.

“I’m sure you have somewhere to get back to now; someone waiting for you—” he started, but she cut him off.

“I-I don’t.”

At first, he looked somber, but then the corner of his mouth ticked up. “Then, you’re more than welcome to stay here until you’re feeling up to heading back out.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, old foster kid tendencies kicking back in.

“It’d be my pleasure, love.”

He made cocoa and got a fire started in the hearth of the rather spartan cabin—with its lightly nautical decor on its wooden walls—and she just watched as he worked, in awe of his graceful movements that belied the strength under them, and keenly aware of both his presence and the things it did to her heart (and other places).

The light coming in from the many windows quickly faded to the inky blue-black of night, and he closed the navy curtains to prevent the incoming chill that surely accompanied those late-fall flurries she’d glimpsed. Those hadn’t been in the forecast, but then she remembered that she was partway up a mountain and not at her little seaside cottage—though her home was nearly as secluded as his.

Conversation over dinner, with both of them curled up on the couch, only confirmed what she suspected: he too had a rough life, involving growing up without parents; losing his brother, his hand, and his first love; and the decision to make a fresh (if lonely) new start in the States. She told him about her similar childhood, her broken heart and the child she had to give up, and her own selective solitude, save for a few friends.

“Why do you do that?” he asked her as he set about clearing the plates.

“Do what?” She was confused as she watched him move about the room, and felt her defenses instinctively rise at being challenged.

“Keep everyone at arm’s length,” he answered when he settled back on the sofa, closer than he’d been before. “They obviously care about you.”

“Why do you live by yourself in a cabin in the woods?” she lightly tossed back in a well-honed deflection, using a flirtatious tone that she was surprised to find was genuine for the first time in years.

“Fair point,” he conceded with an easy grin and a light chuckle. Then he swallowed. “But, if I did have people like that in my life,” he started, pausing to nervously scratch behind his ear, “I’d be loathe to stay closed off.”

She couldn’t hold back her response. “Even after all you’ve been through; everyone you’ve lost?”

“Aye.”

“You’re not scared?” She was speaking from experience, she knew.

“I live on a mountain by myself. Scared isn’t the least of it,” he answered, almost self-deprecatingly. Staring at floor, he finished, “I just don’t think that’s in the cards for me anymore.”

She was certain now she was dreaming: there was no way she just happened to stumble upon a handsome man with all the same issues she had. Surely the universe was playing a trick on her, or it had picked an odd way to teach her a lesson about her own use of emotional walls. Because seeing the way they were built up on Killian—someone who clearly had an immense capacity and desire for love—made her realize that while hers might keep the bad things out, they were also preventing the good from coming in.

So maybe it was time to take a risk and punch a hole through them.

She placed her hand on his arm, just above his prosthetic, drawing his guarded gaze back to her. Her heart raced at the physical contact, as innocent as it was, but if Killian’s quick draw of breath told her anything it was that he was impacted by it, too.

“That’s not true, Killian. You deserve to love and be loved.” The tense draw of his features softened as he absorbed her words, and that was enough to give her the courage to continue. She took a deep breath. “Maybe we both do.”

For a moment, they were both frozen, letting the weight of her words suspend between them. He was studying her with an almost inquisitive look, and she feared she’d overstepped her bounds, but then he slowly leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.

It was tentative at first, from both of them; they were clearly out of practice. But his silken lips felt like heaven against hers, and she tilted her head to deepen the kiss. He instinctively moved closer, eliminating what distance had remained between them, and reciprocated by burying his hand in her loose hair.

She nipped at his lush bottom lip and slid her hands up his arms to his shoulders; when she squeezed, they felt warm and strong through the flannel. Ignoring her injury, she threw a leg over his lap to straddle him. She was worried he might protest, but when he wrapped his left arm around her waist, she could tell they were very much still on the same page. In no time at all, their tongues were as tangled as his fingers in her hair, and Emma’s hands were drifting down his firm chest to the top button of his shirt.

Slowly, not giving up her assault on his mouth, she undid the first closure and waited for a reaction. Her caution surprised her, but she really didn’t want to mess this up. The gentle pelvic thrust he gave in response, though, spurred her on, and in no time at all, the shirt was open and her hands were pushing the flannel down his broad shoulders and over his large biceps, and he leaned forward to help her guide it over the straps of his prosthetic, off his arms, and toss it aside. Her fingers traced the dips of his collar bones before trailing down to his pecs and pressing against the muscles there. Briefly, she let her hands dance in the hair that covered his chest; it was dark and coarse, but sparse enough that it felt smooth with the skin underneath.

She was glad she’d taken off her leather jacket when she first got in as Killian’s hand drew a line of fire down her back through her thin sweater. Following her move, his thumb worked its way under the hem to the skin of her stomach and began to slide up until he was palming her breast through her lacy bra. (Honestly, she’d only worn it because it was the last one clean; fate obviously had known something she didn’t.) Her shirt suddenly felt constricting and sweltering, so she reluctantly broke the kiss to tug it off and toss it across the room.

Once free of the garment, she took a second to breathe in the relief of the cool air on her overheated skin. Then she returned her attention to Killian, who was staring back in awe. The fire made his blue eyes sparkle—or maybe it was just the wide-eyed way he was looking at her, the fine skin around them crinkling with his smile, that made him seem so much more carefree and younger than only minutes ago. His eyes darted as he studied her, so she took the opportunity to do the same: he had the perfect dusting of hair across his chest and in a line down his abdomen. He wasn’t one of those chiseled body-builder types that tended to be the norm in female fantasies; he was obviously fit and solid, but also soft enough to cuddle up with later on—which, if she had her way, she’d be doing later rather than sooner.

“So bloody beautiful,” he breathed, shifting his hips and sitting up to wrap his arms around her waist and bring her closer. She felt his jean-clad erection brush against her core through her leggings, sending a jolt of heat straight through her and making her grip his sides to anchor herself.

“So ‘re you,” she murmured back, her raspy voice matching the flush that had started at her center and now surely covered her exposed skin, but she was too enraptured with the freckles on his cheeks and the way his fringe fell over his forehead to care. And at the same instant, they came back together in another searing kiss.

Soon, Killian’s attentions moved from her mouth, down her jaw, and sucked a line down her neck that had her head falling back, eyes closed in pleasure. She sighed as he moved across her collarbone, tugging her bra strap down as he nipped and kissed, stoking the fire within her just as easily he had the one in the hearth.

Seeking relief, she instinctively grinded into him. She chuckled when he groaned at the contact, and tucked herself into his neck, placing tiny kisses against his warm skin and breathing in his scent. He smelled familiar, like pine and cedar, with a hint of a spice she couldn’t think of. It was incredible and so perfectly him; they should bottle it. Or make a candle out of it. Wait—

“Oh my God, you even smell like the damn candle!” she exclaimed with her face still buried in the crook of his neck.

“The wha?” he slurred, pulling back from her. She sat up and he was staring at her, brow furrowed in confusion.

“The Mountain Lodge candle, from Yankee Candle,” she explained. He raised an eyebrow in question, but didn’t seem to know where she was going. So she babbled on, “It’s this candle that smells all and manly and woodsy and like the perfect stereotypical female fantasy. And you smell just like it.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he wondered with a slight smirk.

“No, not at all,” she answered, much calmer, but she was still convinced the universe was playing some trick on her. She dragged her hands back up to his shoulders, feeling every bump and curve and line in between as if to make sure he was actually there. At this point, she couldn’t bear the thought that he might not be. “Just...tell me that you’re real,” she entreated. “Tell me that this isn’t all some romance novel fantasy playing out in my head.”

He licked his lips in a move that should have been lewd, but the tender look in his eyes and soft smile on his lips made it something else entirely—something that should have scared her, and probably both of them, but just made her heart race even more: something bordering on loving.

In a low voice, he told her, “How about I show you?”

He slid his hand from where it had settled at her hips down over the curve of her rear and used both arms to guide her legs around his waist. She gripped his shoulders and squeezed her thighs as he stood, until he had her held tight against him.

As he carried her (yet again), she made quick work of her bra, letting it join her top wherever it had landed in the great room, and then laid herself back on him, chest to chest. The hair across his pecs tickled her stimulated nipples in the best way, and she let out a slow exhale at the sensation.

Because her life was a cliche now, there was a large fur rug in front of the fireplace. There, Killian knelt and laid her down; the coarse fur was surprisingly plush and felt smooth against her bare skin. He disappeared, and she sat partway up, worried, but he returned a moment later holding the throw pillows from the couch and wordlessly propped her injured ankle with one.

Seriously—she must have fallen and hit her head in the woods, and was presently dying of exposure for this to be her reality. Even as Killian started placing kisses at the hollow of her throat, trailing them down the center of her body until he reached the waistband of her leggings, and then continuing the line whilst slowly pulling off her pants and undies at once—even then she was pinching herself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. Granted, “pinching herself” awfully resembled” stroking her nipples,” but it had the same effect.

She still couldn’t believe it as she watched him gently part her legs, guide the healthy one to a propped position, and lift her hips to support them with the other pillow, despite all the feelings stirred by his careful ministrations. It wasn’t until he took a first tentative lick at her entrance that she was thoroughly convinced this wasn’t make believe. Because there was no way she could even imagine anyone as talented as Killian going down on her.

It was all she could do to not rut against his face, and thankfully his warm hand was pressed low on her stomach, both holding her in place and keeping a comforting weight on her growing pleasure. She found herself gripping the rug as he lapped at her folds, varying the speed and depth at which his skilled tongue maneuvered. The brush of his beard against her delicate skin tingled in the most delicious way. Every swipe of his tongue brought her closer and closer to her peak, which she’d been fairly close to before he even started.

She tensed, trying to hold it off and vaguely aware of the way he himself seemed uncomfortable, but he noticed her hesitation. He glanced up at her from between her legs and, in a wrecked voice, practically begged, “Come for me, love.”

And, because she was finding that she couldn’t deny him anything, she did. A second later, she fell over the edge, climaxing with a shout as waves of pleasure ran through her body, rippling out from her core. Not even the dull ache from her ankle, which had moved during her release, could crash this high.

Killian, eternal gentleman that he was, licked her sex a few more times as she came down before sitting back on his haunches to readjust her ankle. He moved awkwardly, though, and she could the strain of his arousal still very evident, if not more so.

Careful not to move her leg, she slowly sat up. He tried to stop her. “Easy there; you don’t want to—”

But his protestation died with a low growl when the back of her hand brushed the fly of his jeans and the hardness beneath. She repeated the motion with the heel of her palm, eliciting an even deeper moan, his head falling back and spine arching at her touch. Again she stroked, and reveled in watching his chest heave; he was somehow even more beautiful when aroused and she could feel her own desire building once more, even so soon after the last.

“Emma—please—” he stuttered, reaching for and stilling her wrist before she could stroke again.

As best she could from her awkward seated position, she leaned forward and whispered in his pointed ear, “Your turn.” He sighed and nodded.

Quickly but carefully, she undid his fly and pushed down his boxer briefs to free his stiff cock, which was, of course, as attractive as the rest of him and ready to go. Gently but firmly, she grasped his narrow hips and tugged him forward, sliding her hands to his lower back as they moved and slipping his clothes over his firm ass. Bracing himself on his forearms while she leaned back on her elbows, he managed to shake off his pants and then, once free of the offending garments, hovered over her.

Lightly, she placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down to her; even if it had only been minutes since their lips had last been joined, that was much too long as far as she was concerned.

While their mouths resumed their earlier waltz, her other hand trailed down his back and circled his side down to his manhood and began to stroke. He was like smooth velvet and warm in her hand as she slowly pulled from the base to the tip of his generous girth. His whole body shuddered on the first drag, and he hissed and bit his lip; but it was back to kissing on the next, and eventually his hand wandered to her breast, caressing it while she did the same to him.

The longer she worked, the more his hips moved with her, occasionally brushing his hardened length against her core. If the way he was slowly coming apart under her touch wasn’t enough to renew her arousal, that did it for sure.

So when he pulled back, strained and panting and stuttering, “I—I need—,” she cut him off.

“I want you,” she whispered. “Inside.”

His eyes opened wide. “Are you sure, Emma? Do we need—”

She appreciated his train of thought, but it wasn’t necessary. “We’re good. Now, please,” she breathed, “get inside me.”

“As you wish.”

He placed his hand over hers on his shaft, keeping it in place, and knelt back a bit. She guided him, circling her entrance with the tip of his cock. And then he slowly slid in, stretching and filling her perfectly and wholly.

They only paused there for a second, overwhelmed by the feeling of being joined, when both started shifting at the same time.

Somewhat startled, she grabbed his waist as he slowly pulled part of the way out. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, gripping her side and using his left arm to support him. He quickly thrust back in as she arched her hips up to meet him. He smiled at her movement, and what could she say? She was impatient to have him back inside her when it felt so good.

They set a rhythm with their push-pull, in and out, plunging and thrusting, feeling every beautiful inch of him drag against her walls as her hands did the same along his strong back. They were constantly increasing the pace until the pressure built within her was even more than before. Killian’s halting movements told her he was close, too.

“Love, I’m about to—” “Got it.” She reached in between them, finding the nub of her clit, and she’d hardly even made contact before she was coming, her release gripping her as shocks consumed her body and her head fell back with a rapturous gasp. She was sorry that she couldn’t see the look on Killian’s face when he followed her not a second later, but she could feel him stilling and pulsing within and heard his cry of pleasure.

They let bliss consume them for an unknown amount of time, only aware of the high they’d reached together and the feel of one another within and around them. But eventually, Killian slipped out and collapsed next to her on the rug, keeping an arm around her.

“So,” he panted, “does that convince you I’m real?” She turned her head to look at him, unsurprised to see an amused smirk topped by an arched brow.

She hummed back. “Yeah, I think so. But,” she started, reaching over to brush his hair off his forehead, “you’re more than welcome to make sure I really know. Maybe a change in scenery is needed?”

He gave a devilish grin. “How about the bedroom? The mattress springs are rather loud; there’s no way anyone can sleep through that.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Sunlight and the sound of birds chirping awoke Emma the next day. She blearily blinked her eyes to see the frosty world outside the window, snow dusting the branches in contrast to the bright red leaves.

She was sore in all the right places, save for her bum ankle, and stretched under the thick down blanket covering the bed.

Arms tightened around her and the body behind her shifted in protest of her movement. More carefully this time, she flipped over, and there he was: just as warm and soft and solid as he was last night.

Killian cracked an eye open as she placed her hand on the smooth skin of his stomach, near the V of hips. “Everything alright, love?” he asked, his voice gravelly with sleep.

“Perfect,” she whispered, then placed a small, tender kiss on his lips and tucked herself back into him, her head on his chest.

So what if the past 24 hours had felt like a romance novel? She never imagined her life would ever resemble a work of fantasy—especially one like this—but she couldn’t poke fun or complain here. All that mattered was that it was real.  

Hope this warms some people up! tagging some friends who might be interested @kat2609 @thesschesthair @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @its-like-a-story-of-love @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @fairytalesandtimetravel @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @flipperbrain @disastergirl @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @jscoutfinch @nfbagelperson @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @jackieorioncat

[spartanguard]

Ahhhhhhhh this is LITERALLY THE SWEETESTTTTTTT. And it’s mmmmmmmmmm. But. YESSSSSSSSS

Emma’s never cared about holidays or cliched traditions like kissing someone at midnight on New Year’s Eve. What she would like, however, is for her boyfriend to at least be in the same city so she could have the option. 

found on ao3 | here | ; word count: ~ 2,700 

-/-

“Twenty.” “That’s what you’re going with? An even twenty?”

“Aye.”

“When has it ever been an even number? That’s too neat.”

“I’m a neat man.”

“You’re a stupid man is what you are.”

“Now, Swan, you’re supposed to kill people with kindness, not insults.”

Emma huffs and grabs her beanie off of her desk and tugs it down over her ears, adjusting her bun so that it doesn’t tug at her head. “You don’t get to say that when you were an asshole to me last night.” “I was not an asshole.”

“You were.” 

“Love, you call me asshole more than you call me by my own name.”

“That’s because I’m a romantic.”

Keep reading

[everaftercaptainswan]

A Perfect Beginning

The Black Fairy’s curse has passed. Magic has left our realm for good. No more dark ones or curses can hurt them now. Emma is on her way to discovering just what it’s like to lead a normal life with the man she loves. 

ff.net

                                            I: Honeymoon 

 Miles from Storybrooke, was where the Jolly Roger was anchored, far from any intrusive parents or well meaning dwarves. On the deck, tangled in each other, the sun kissing their naked skin, the two newly weds were lost in each other. 

    Since departing, Killian had taken care to make love to Emma on every available surface. The passion and love he felt for his new wife-his wife, his heart, his luv, his-had over taken him body and soul. Their couplings had been passionate beyond belief. But now, with the sun beginning to be engulfed by the sea, the former pirate took his time. He drew lazy kisses from her mouth, down, down, down tasting and teasing as he went. 

    Emma gasped as his tongue encircled her nipple, drawing it into his hot mouth. His tongue and teeth played across her skin. Hot coiling desire coarser through her, Emma’s hands came up, her fingers grasping dark locks, her wedding bands catching the dying sun light. 

    “Killian,"she sighed as he released her nipple to draw path down the slight curve of her belly to that sweet place between her shapely thighs. The cry that fell from her lips was lost to the crashing of waves on the sides of the ship. 

   He sucked, he kissed, he devoured her very nectar, drawing his wife to the highest peak of passion with his slow torture. His mouth closed around her clit, sucking hard, bringing Emma a kind of pleasure she’d never truly experienced. Her mind spun, her very bones turning to liquid. She lay limply beneath her husband as he rose up on his knees, positioning his throbbing cock at her entrance, with a practiced percison, he entered smoothly and hard.

   Her eyes flew open at the fullness of him, it felt so good to have him there. Killian clasped his hand in her own, holding it high above her head. His piercing blue eyes were the color of mercury as they bore into her own. 

   "Watch me, Swan,” he growled. 

   Emma could only give a wordless moan, but her green eyes never left Killian.

   Killian bucked his hips, the movements hard and slow, jarring her with every thrust, giving her his full length with every churn of his pelvis. Emma met him-thrust for thrust, both keeping the steady pace.

   "You’re so fucking beautiful, luv,“ he growled as he released her hand clasping her jutting breast, squeezing. 

   More pleasure flooded her, all at once the slow pace wasn’t enough for her. Emma rose up, gently, but firmly guiding Killian to his back. His only answer was a cheeky grin. He rearranged his legs, holding his shaft still for Emma to seat herself. She moved without hesitation, taking him to the hilt. She rode him like a warrior, a vengeful Amazonian goddess.

   Killian was captured by the beauty of her as she moved over him. And bloody hell did it feel amazing having her there. The woman he loved more than his own life riding him with a purpose. Killian grasped her neck tugging her lips down to meet his in a ravenous kiss. 

   It left them both gasping, Killian held her closer to him, thrusting deeper inside her. Their movements rose in tempo, their harsh breathing beating against their skin. The fire between them reached a powerful crescendo. Emma released a cry as her orgasm rocked through her, her arms grasped Killian tightly, as though he were the only thing anchoring her to the earth. Killian’s own completion was equally as powerful as he buried his face in the crook of his wife’s neck. 

   They remained like that for the span of a heart beat, Killian still buried deep inside her. Emma relaxed against him, pressing a feather light kiss on his temple as she sat up. 

 "That was …" 

 "Most definitely not a one time thing, luv,” he teased as he tucked a blond lock behind her ear.

 Emma released a light hearted giggle as she caressed her husbands face. “Hmm, well …" 

 "Minx,” he growled as he rolled her back beneath him, and began to remind his beautiful wife that he was not a man who could be satisfied with just a one time thing … .

[not-talking-about-pancakes]

Importance

Inspired by THAT scene from 6x18 "Where Blue Birds Fly" this is just a bit captain swan smuff. I actually originally had nearly the same idea that played out in that scene, but it happened before (and much better) I could write it. So I changed up my idea so as not to totally copy what they did on the show. Emma and Killian just want one, uninterrupted morning to themselves, but it seems that Mary Margaret has sixth sense about these things and has really the worst timing ever. And also a terrible definition of the word emergency. 

A big thanks to @wholockgal for her help with beta and editing, working out the details, and the title. She’s amazing and I love her and you all should too. 

Also read here on A03 or on FF.net

Rate M-just in case

Emma was seated at the kitchen table, one foot tucked under the opposite leg, a cup of coffee and a plate containing what was left of the strawberry pop-tarts she’d consumed for breakfast next to her while she flipped through the bridal magazine she’s picked up at the store yesterday. As she turned the pages, folding down the corner on anything that caught her eye, she absent mindedly twirled the diamond ring that now sat on the third finger of her left hand. It had recently been placed back on said finger, after Killian had returned being sent off to another realm by Gideon. And since the moment he’d proposed for the second time, they had made good use of every quiet moment alone to enjoy each other. (Sometimes several times in one night, and on nearly every surface of the house.)

 “Finding anything you like, love?” 

Emma looked up at the sound of her fiance’s voice. She’d been lost in her own thoughts and hadn’t heard him come down the stairs. 

“A few things,” she replied, giving him a smile. “But I don’t know if I can find anything like them in Storybrooke. I think my choices are going to be pretty limited.”

 Killian moved into the kitchen and stood behind her, hand and hook on her shoulders as leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “I’m sure, whatever you choose, you’ll be ravishing,” he said, his voice husky as he nipped her earlobe. 

Emma squirmed a little in her chair, and bit her bottom lip as memories of everything else he’d nipped last night came flooding back to her. They’d had quite the pleasurable evening when they returned home from dinner at her parents apartment, with Henry deciding to stay at Regina’s they’d had the house to themselves. Being separated by realms, and with the Final Battle looming in the not too distant future they weren’t wasting any of the quiet moment they had together and, well, Emma hadn’t been sure she was going to be able to walk down the stairs this morning. 

“Mmm,” she moaned, and twisted in her chair so she could look up at him. “As long as the ravishing is done after the reception. We don’t want to give my dad anything else to freak out about, and besides,” she continued as she reached up and grabbed his necklace, pulling him towards her, “your pirate booty is all mine and I don’t want to share.” She closed the remaining distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

 It was Killian’s turn to moan this time, and despite the  awkward angle in which she found herself Emma couldn’t help the rush of heat that went straight to her lower belly. She was high on love and happiness, and all thoughts of the looming threat from the Black Fairy were the last things she was even remotely thinking about. Right now, it was all about the man who had promised to win her heart, and who’d made good on that promise. 

As their kisses grew deeper, Emma knew she was a lost cause. She didn’t even notice that she had risen from her chair and was now perched on the table, legs open with Killian standing between them, until she felt his hand on her bare thigh. (She’d slipped on one of his shirts before coming downstairs but hadn’t bothered with anything else.)

 “Didn’t I wear you out last night?” She teased, her voice coming out a bit breathless as he lips moved from hers, to work their way along her throat.

 “Never,” Killian mumbled again her skin. “I can never get enough of you, Swan.” He smiled against her neck and pressed his groin into hers so she could feel just how alive he was. 

“Well, hurry up, sailor,” she replied, wrapping her legs around his hips. “A girl doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” He found her lips again and Emma let out a small squeal as he pushed her backwards so she was now laying on top of the table with him over her, his weight pressing into her. He grabbed the back of one knee, pulling it higher, and slid his hand down along her thigh closer to her heated center. She thrust her hips up, encouraging him to go higher, to give her more. And just as his hand reach where she most needed it, her phone rang. 

“Really?” She exclaimed in desperation. She could see the name on the screen, her mother was calling. She could just not answer it, let it go to voicemail and she’d deal with it later. But with all that was going on, maybe it was something important. Maybe someone had been sucked into another realm. (God, she hoped not.) With an apologetic look to Killian she grabbed the phone and answered.

 “Emma,” Mary Margaret exclaimed from the other end. “Emma’s there’s something very important I need you to see. You have to come over.” 

Killian, however, seemed to think it would be funny to keep her as distracted as possible, and nuzzled at the opening in her shirt freezing one breast. She gently pushed on his arm, trying to get him to move back but he was having none of it.

 “Does it have to be right now?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound like she was running a marathon. “I’m...kind of in the middle of something.” She closed her eyes tightly as she fought back a moan when Killian licked the underside of one breast, her back arching up towards his mouth begging for more.

 Luckily, her mother seemed engrossed in whatever the problem was and didn’t seem to notice anything might be wrong with Emma. “Belle is trying to help, but there’s only so much I can do,” Mary Margaret explained. “I really think this is something that you ought to come handle.”

Emma’s heart stopped and it had nothing to do with the pirate currently  attacking her other breast. If Belle was there then it must have to do with Gideon and the Black Fairy, and something bad was happening. “We’ll be right there,” Emma told her mother and hung up the phone. “Killian, we have to stop,” she pleaded, giving her pirate a light shove. “My mother needs help.”

 Killian lifted his head with a sigh, looking down at her. “Is this truly a crisis or simply more wedding details your mother only thinks is an emergency?” He asked, one eyebrow raising. 

“No, it’s Gideon,” Emma told him. “She said Belle was there but they need help. We’ve gotta go.”

 He lingered over her a moment before moving away from her and standing up, holding a hand to help her up. “I’ll be happy when this bloody Fairy is defeated and we can go simply enjoy our lives.”

 “I know, babe,” Emma gave him a sympathetic smile, “me too. I promise I’ll make it up to you later.” She reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe if you’re really good I’ll even make some pancakes,” she teased giving him a wink.

“I certainly hope so,” he teased and gave her ass a smack as she moved past him to head up stairs to get dressed. 

A short time later, dressed and hoping she didn’t look like she’d been thoroughly seduced by her fiance, they arrived at the Charmings’ loft. Racing up the steps, they opened the door fully expecting Gideon to be holding her her entire family hostage. 

“Mom, Dad!” She called out. “Is everyone alright?” Nothing appeared to be amiss, the apartment looked like it always did, minus the coffee table being covered in what appeared to be magazine clippings, fabric samples, and various other crafting materials. Mary Margaret appeared to be deep in wedding planning mode. 

“Oh, Emma, Killian,” her mother said as she came down the stairs followed by Belle. “Thank goodness you’re here.” 

“Are you okay?” Emma asked. “Where’s Gideon? Is everyone alright?” 

“Gideon?” Mary Margaret asked, looking quite confused. “Why would you think Gideon was here? We’re fine.”

 “You said Belle was here and there was a situation you couldn’t handle,” Emma replied, starting feel a little exasperated that her sexy time with her pirate appeared to have been interrupted for nothing.

 “I’m sorry if we confused you,” Belle replied, looking a bit sheepish. Apparently whatever her mother was up too she’d somehow roped Belle into helping. “Mary Margaret has been working with my father on the flowers for your wedding and she was insisting on lilies but they aren’t in season, and-” 

“I know he keeps saying that,” Mary Margaret jumped in. “But people order flowers all the time for all over the place. I’m sure he can get some from somewhere.”

 “He’s tried,” Belle insisted. “But you know how hard it can be getting in out and this town and no one wants to risk it.” 

Mary Margaret sighed. “I still say this is ridiculous, but if we can’t have lilies then I need to know what flowers you want Emma so we can make sure we have them.” 

Emma just stared at her mother and Belle in disbelief. She wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry. “Flowers?” She asked. “This was all about flowers! Mom, I thought you were in danger. I thought Gideon was holding you guys hostage or something.”

 Mary Margaret looked taken back. “Why would you think that?”

 “Emma said the way you sounded on the phone, she thought Gideon was here,” Killian replied, sounding much calmer than Emma felt right now. “We thought something had happened.” 

“Oh,” Mary Margaret replied and faint blushed arose on her cheeks. “Emma I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. There’s just so much to do, and so little time do it in I want to make sure-”

 “Mom!” Emma exclaimed, stopping her mother in her tracks. “I thought we’d agreed to hold off on the wedding stuff till after the Black Fairy is defeated,” she reminded her. “Flowers are hardly an emergency, so can you refrain from calling me in a panic unless there’s an actual crisis.”

 “It’s alright, Emma, love,” Killian said, taking her hand in his and giving it a small squeeze. He could clearly tell she was getting irritated and in usual Killian fashion was doing his best to ease her worries. “She just wants to help.” 

Emma sighed. She knew he was right, he always was. It was just the shock of thinking her family was in trouble and knowing she was going to have a face this battle that was coming. And all she wanted was a few minutes of peace to just enjoy this new happiness that she never dreamed she could have.

 “I know, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I was just worried that something had happened, and with everything going on I just want to be able to enjoy the little moments.”

 Mary Margaret stepped forward and took her other hand. “I’m sorry too,” she said with a smile. “I wasn’t trying to upset you, and maybe I am rushing into things. I’ve just dreamed of this moment for so long, and I missed so much in your life. I want to be there for this.” 

“I want that too, Mom,” Emma smiled. “Once this Final Battle is over,  I’d love to sit down with you and plan some things, but can we please put it on hold till then?”

 “Of course, sweetheart,” her mother replied, and leaned in to give her a hug. “Perhaps I am going a bit overboard. I’ll try to be better.” 

Emma returned the hug. “It’s okay,” she assured her. “I love you, mom and I do appreciate everything you’re trying to do. I know it’s important to you.” 

“I love you, too Emma,” Mary Margaret replied, stepping back from the hug. “But are you sure everything's okay? When I called you sounded like you were out of breath.” 

Emma suddenly felt a heat creep up her cheeks and down her neck. She glanced at Killian which didn’t help because he just gave her a devilish grin. Bastard. He was going to make her find her way out of this on her own. And there was no way she was going to tell her mother the real reason she had sounded funny.  “Umm...yeah,” she replied. “I...uh, we were just um…” 

“We were having breakfast,” Killian replied, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief. He had saved her from humiliation at the hands of her mother. Again. “Pancakes, actually .” 

Damnit. 

This time it was Mary Margaret’s cheeks that turned pink this time. “Uh...oh,” she replied awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your, er, pancakes. Again.” 

“It’s quite alright, my lady,” Killian answered, not looking the least bit embarrassed by any of this. “Perhaps it’s best to make sure there’s an actual emergency before calling. No doubt you and David understand what it’s like to be newlyweds.” 

Emma laughed in embarrassment and grabbed Killian’s hand, making for the door. “Okay, we gotta go. Mom, I-I’ll call you about a time we can sit down and talking about this wedding later.” She pulled him out the door without a glance back, but not before she overheard Belle ask; 

“I feel like I’m missing something,” she said. “What is it about pancakes?” 

“You don’t want to know,” Mary Margaret told her.

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “The Sweetest Treat”

While I realize that Halloween has passed and this one is somewhat Halloween-themed, I still wanted to re-run this and next week’s story here with the Fall season. I hope you will still enjoy if you give them a read. This one is a post-season six canon divergent fic, imagining all the lovely domestic stuff we might have gotten had we seen everyone stay in Storybrooke.  Hope you enjoy!! :)

Originally, this was written as a gift for @kmomof4 on her birthday some years back, and in trying to give her the smuff she deserved, it is about as close to an M rating as I had gotten at the time; definitely a hard T, if nothing else...

Summary: After Storybrooke’s first Harvest Day Festival winds down, Emma has a sweet and sultry surpise in store for her pirate husband. 

Also can be found on AO3, if you prefer...

“The Sweetest Treat”

by: @snowbellewells  

The cider had been drunk, the campfire had burned down, and the last hayride had finished.  All of the town’s children and adults who had packed Anton’s field where the First Annual Harvest Day Festival was held had dispersed, moving toward their homes in the October night air.  Emma Swan-Jones is not far behind the rest of the satisfied revellers, pausing only briefly to make sure that her mother doesn’t need any more help securing things for the night.  Even at that, her hand doesn’t leave her husband’s, their fingers linked together warmly as he gladly follows her to speak with her mom - the newly re-elected mayor of Storybrooke.

David gives his daughter and son-in-law a warm smile as well as he hefts one more hay bale over the tailgate and into the bed of his truck, then comes to join their huddle just as Snow answers, “No, don’t worry about the rest of it.  Final clean up will keep until tomorrow when it’s light out.  Are we still meeting for brunch at Granny’s?”

Killian glances quickly over at his wife, affirming without need of words that their earlier plans are still agreeable to his lovely Swan, before answering his mother-in-law jovially. “At present, I cannot imagine my gut being able to hold anything more, Milady, but aye, we will be there.” 

The intended ruler of the Enchanted Forest, now three-time mayor of their vibrant hamlet, laughs aloud at his words, her nose crinkling as adorably as her daughter’s with the happy action - even as she swats at him in jest, shooing them both off toward home with a parting shot of, “Please! Spare me! You never look as though you gain an ounce, Sailor - despite the mass quantities of sugar I’ve watched you put away.”

 His wife disloyally guffaws so loudly at that, Killian looks down at her surprise, her cheeks flush merrily from the recent heat of the bonfires, the mulled cider spiked with rum they’ve both imbibed, and a bit of embarrassment and humor both from her outburst.

Waggling an eyebrow at her salaciously, Killian and Emma both bid her parents goodnight and turn to meander home happily. Emma leans into his side with lazily relaxed ease, and Killian wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer still.  He whispers as they gain enough distance from David and Mary Margaret, “You seem in awfully good spirits tonight, Love,” his voice reverberating low and and tickling against her neck.  “Perhaps I should get you home quickly and use it to my advantage.”

 Emma merely tilts her head up to meet his seductive gaze, biting her lower lip temptingly and batting her eyes, “Mmm,” she hums in the back of her throat, “perhaps you should.”

 There is a decided increase of speed in their steps as they follow the streets toward their house by the water.  Even as they move further from the center of town, they can hear voices calling out in the night as folks bid each other good evening before parting ways and excited children begin to recount for their parents the things they’ve seen and games they’ve played.  They see Marco dutifully helping Granny gather up the luminaries which had lined the walk to the diner, Frederick taking his wife Kathryn’s hand as he cradles their little boy in his other arm where he had fallen asleep against his father’s shoulder, and with a smirking nod, Killian makes sure Emma catches a glimpse of Leroy escorting Astrid back toward the small cottage she and Tink now rent together near the school.  Together the awkward, but sweet, pair disappear around the corner and out of sight. All in all, the night has been a rousing success; all that Snow had hoped as she hatched the idea months ago and planned and prepared for the last several weeks. 

They soon reach their own front walk, and Emma’s seemingly languid and sleepy haze dissipates as they pause on the porch and Killian fishes for his key. A mischievous grin quirks her lips and trouble sparks in her eye as she leans forward to grasp the lapels of the red-orange-and-brown-checked flannel she’d bought him for the Festival and pulls him down to her anxious lips. The kiss tastes of apple and butterscotch, tinged with rum and the hint of salt from the fire-popped corn, and Killian sighs at the deliciousness of it - right in every possible way.

When they part, panting, foreheads still pressed together, Emma winks at him before prodding huskily, “Let’s get inside already before we give some stranger a show.” Pressed up against their front door as he is by her warm, delicious body, Killian is loathe to move, but his lovely wife is right. The sparks flying back and forth between them would rival the huge bonfire that had lit up the whole town square not an hour ago, and if they don’t get indoors soon, he hardly feels he should be held responsible for his actions.

“Emma love,” he purrs against the sensitive skin where her neck meets her shoulder, nose brushing over her skin until he feels her shiver in his arms. “Do you have some mischief in mind?”

She quirks a brow in playful challenge, skirting around him quickly to pull open the door and slip inside first with a squeal of glee as he whirls trying to catch her.

 It isn’t long before he has her pinned against the wall in the entryway; kissing, mouthing, nipping along her collarbone, his tongue tracing, “Going to answer my question, yet, hmm?”

 Breathlessly, Emma pants, half in a daze, green eyes glazed over, “Nothing a sweet tooth like yours won’t enjoy,” she finally manages cryptically.

 Tilting his head curiously, Emma can see that her husband is puzzled by her words - as she meant him to be - even though he waggles his dark brows at her, smirking, “And just what is that to mean, wife?”

 “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she purrs, trailing a finger up his sternum to chuck him under the chin, then tugging at the top button of his shirt, adds, “Lose this, and wait for me in the dining room...maybe you’ll find out.”

 Grinning devilishly, pleased with herself even as the black pupils widening with arousal to overtake the blue in his eyes makes her own pulse begin to speed up and thrum unsteadily, Emma saunters away from him with intentional extra sway in her hips and a teasing glance back over her shoulder before she vanishes into the kitchen.  The way her husband visibly swallows hard, seeming completely gobsmacked, makes her plan (which is making her palms sweat with its daring) seem already worth it.

 Once in the kitchen, Emma reaches into the refrigerator for the bottle she needs, hidden behind several other items so that neither her husband or son would find it first and use it up, then setting it on the table, begins to shimmy out of her jacket, jeans and top, mouth dry with both nerves and anticipation.  Once she stands in the playful lingerie she’d picked for this very occasion - black boy shorts and a push-up bra, both with tiny candy corns and candy apples printed all over them - she blows out a tense breath, self-consciousness almost getting the better of her despite the fact that Killian has never made her feel anything less than beautiful.  Smoothing a hand over her hair, Emma focuses on the adoring look her husband only gets in his eyes for her, and biting her lip, she picks up the container and goes to find him.

 Stepping into the entryway from kitchen to dining room clutching the bottle of caramel sauce for dear life, Emma tries to strike a seductive pose, clearing her throat to gain Killian’s attention from where he stands leaning against the table, shirtless as she had instructed, but staring at his own feet, lost in thought. 

 At her entrance, his face snaps up to look at her, and his mouth drops open.  The sight of him bare chested with his weather-browned skin covered in dark hair that accentuates his toned pecs and abs before trailing down into his jeans makes her previously dry mouth practically water.  ‘ This will be fun,’ her mind cheers, even if she feels ridiculous at the moment.

 “E-Emma...wh-what are you…?” Killian stutters as he struggles to ask her what she has in mind, but she shakes her head, stalking slowly toward him, and his words trail off in stunned awe.

 Once she reaches him, Emma presses her fingers to his lips for a moment, smiling wickedly, “Just hold still, and you’ll see,” she directs, raising the bottle of sticky sweet topping to wave before his eyes, then upending it to squeeze a bit of the caramel onto her fingers before returning them to his mouth. “Here, taste.”

 Killian’s eyes are blown wide as he opens and then sucks her fingers between his lips, his tongue caressing them as well, and making her breath heave despite her attempt to hold the upper hand. “Mhmm,” he hums, hands coming to rest on her nearly bare hips and pulling her closer, until she stands between his legs and his long, calloused fingers trace around to lightly clutch at the supple cheeks of her behind.

 Seeing that she has him where she wants him, Emma holds the dispenser over his chest, squeezing more liberally to line caramel across her husband’s collarbones, and back to center, trailing it down his stomach to the waistband of his pants.  She licks her tongue along his skin after savoring the taste of the sweet sauce and a hint of the salt from the sweat that has broken out over Killian’s body. His head is flung back and his chest is already heaving by the time she brings her tongue to swirl around his nipple and adds her teeth with a playful bite.

 Letting out a guttural noise that Emma honestly isn’t sure she’s ever heard him make, Killian suddenly lunges forward and wraps her tightly in his grasp, and in the blink of an eye turns the tables on her.  She got a bit engrossed in feasting off of his decadent body and forgot just how stealthy her husband can be. Before she knows what has happened, she’s lying with her back pressed against the table, her pirate leaning over her and encasing her there between his arms.  Eyes alight, he leers down at her devilishly and works the bottle of caramel from her suddenly nerveless hand.

 “Let’s see now, Swan,” he murmurs, adeptly drizzling caramel over her ribs and into her belly button before surveying her like some half-finished piece of living art.  He slides his hook ever-so-carefully into the waistband of her festive panties before deftly slicing them and tossing the scrap away with a single flick of his wrist. “That’s much better,” he muses happily, tracing the curve of his metal appendage along the edge of her bra cup next.  “Though these articles are quite humorously arousing, I believe I was the one promised a reward for my sweet tooth and yet you were having all the fun.”

 By this point, Emma is trembling all over, every hair on her body standing at attention. Killian always manages to make her quake with desire using his hook to disrobe her, and the thrill of this different, wholly abandoned encounter is almost more than she can stand. Almost whining in eager appeal, she reaches for his waist, getting his jeans unbuttoned before he pushes her hands away. Though the jeans fall open to yield a heartstopping view, Killian doesn’t pounce on her immediately as Emma aches for him to. Instead, he shakes his head at her in mock chiding, “Ah ah ah, not so fast, wife.  Not until I’ve had my taste.”

 So saying, he trails caramel onto her inner thigh, along the joint where her leg meets her torso and then flings the bottle somewhere behind them, swooping in to devour her with his mouth. His tongue swirls around her nipples, laving and teasing as she had done to him, leaving her gasping for breath and vibrating like a live wire waiting for the final spark to set her off. His whiskered face tickles the skin of her stomach before his tongue dips into her belly button, making her hips desperately lift off of the table toward him until he pins them back down with hook and hand.

 Luckily, before she can combust into a pile of ash, he finally moves in earnest, lapping along the crease at the top of her leg where he’d traced the sweet confection. He chuckles maddeningly against her quivering skin as she tries to buck in impatience, “Yes, Swan, you were right... delectable .” Then, without anymore hesitation, his tongue slides home, pillaging and plundering in earnest and setting her off like a bottle rocket. 

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They are a heaving, sticky mess of boneless limbs and sweaty skin by the time all is said and done. Cleaning the remnants of sticky caramel from each other in a steamy shower leads to more delicious mingling, and by the time Killian emerges, about five minutes after his insatiable wife, still toweling his hair dry, he is completely, pleasantly wrung out and utterly spent. Tossing the towel haphazardly toward the hamper, in a distinctly less neat than usual gesture, he pads across the carpet toward the bed, waiting only for Emma to return with the water she had insisted they both needed to drink to replenish themselves.

 A few moments later, his wife appears in the doorway, two cold bottles of water in hand, and she steals his breath all over again.  Clad in the flannel he discarded when they had first begun, and nothing else, her bare, shapely legs entice him all the way up to where the hem of his shirt stops, and her sated smile lights her whole face as she moves toward him across the room. The sight of his Emma wrapped in his shirt as she crawls into bed beside him is the sweetest treat he could ever receive.

Tagging: @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @xsajx @apiratewhopines @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @xhookswenchx @the-darkdragonfly @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @deckerstarblanche @sotangledupinit @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @artistic-writer @xarandomdreamx @anmylica @wefoundloveunderthelight @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @resident-of-storybrooke @blowmiakisscolin @caught-in-the-filter​ @kday426​ @gingerchangeling​ @gingerpolyglot​ @superchocovian​ @justanother-unluckysoul​ @stahlop @bluewildcatfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv

[spartanguard]

a rose in the deeps of my heart: waterfall

well, @cocohook38, you wanted some fae!CS...it’s not Christmas—quite the opposite, really—but it just kind of spilled out. hope you (and some others) enjoy!

(rated M-ish)

One thing Emma quickly figured out about the fae realm was that, other than moderately clearer skies, the weather was the same as the outside world.

The downside, however, was that the fae realm had yet to discover air conditioning. And it was not immune to the effects of global warming.

So while Emma would never trade her family or her True Love for anything, she’d certainly give her left wing for some ice cream and a fan. The only time she enjoyed the feel of sweat glistening on her skin was during “far more enjoyable activities,” as Killian would put it, not merely from the effort of walking and/or flying down to breakfast.

Thankfully, Killian also had ideas for cooling her down. After lunch at Granny’s on the hottest day of the summer—complete with chocolate milkshakes—he led her through the forest and into one of the remote pockets of the fae realm, the one with the waterfall where he’d first shown her his wings.

The pool at the base of the fall had never looked more perfect or enticing as it did right now: it rippled a cool blue-green color that complemented the lush, almost tropical green of the foliage and shrubbery. It was like a bit of a rainforest in the middle of Ireland—and with the intense humidity, almost felt like it.

Ever the gentleman, Killian guided her down to a flat stone at the water’s edge, where she didn’t hesitate a moment to strip off her sticky shorts and tank top down to the bikini she wore underneath, letting her wings flap freely, but even that started to feel stifling.

It didn’t last long, though, because a second later, she was suddenly under water. The cool of the pool was initially jarring, and her body seized up for a moment, but she quickly acclimated and let the relief wash over her.

That didn’t stop her feigned indignation when she rose back to the surface, where Killian was sitting on the rock with a trademark smirk. She tried to glare at him, but it was hard to stay mad long when he looked so adorable—and enticing. With his wings freed and wearing just his swim trunks, she had an unparalleled view of his fit upper body and his perfect dusting of hair. And she was suddenly desperate to see him wet, too.

So she splashed him, smiling as he winced adorably at the cool water.

“What was that for?” he cried indignantly.

“You’re too dry. Get in the pool.”

“Oh yeah? Make me,” he challenged, and she was starting to regret how much media she’d exposed him to. But the accompanying devilish grin was all him.

Well, two can play that game. Carefully, she scooped a bit of water into her palms and flapped her wings to rise from the pool. And, once she was above him, opened her hands, spilling on his head.

He cringed and sputtered, and pushed his now-wet bangs out of his eyes. “Seriously?”

She just smiled back. “I told you: you’re too dry.”

“Even still?”

“Aye,” she answered, mimicking his accent.

“Well, then.” He stood, and then without any warning, launched himself up off the rock, jumping so he could grab her ankle…and then pulled her down to the depths with him, creating a massive splash of water she was sure could be heard beyond the realm’s barrier.

She rose to the top as quickly as her legs would take her and waited for him to surface a moment later. This time, she beat him to the punch, brushing his hair back to get a look at those blue, blue eyes and wrapping her other arm around him to bringing them chest to chest.

“How’s this now?” he asked, voice low.

“Much, much better,” she murmured as her fingers began dragging through the hair that was now plastered to his chest. The cool water had done wonders for her overheated skin, but wasn’t doing anything about the fire building within her. Or him, from the feel of things. Guess cold water doesn’t affect fae like it does human guys.

Without hesitation, she attacked his mouth and wrapped a leg around him, thankful the pool was relatively shallow and he was standing firm. She was vaguely aware of the beat of both their wings as their lips and tongues danced, but she was more than used to it by now. But the ripples created from their rhythm splashed against their sides in the chest-deep water and started to echo in the movement of her hips against his, and she knew they needed to move somewhere dry, and fast.

Funny how that was what she needed now, when at first she just needed him wet.

She broke the kiss to begin to ask for a relocation, but Killian beat her to it. “Did I ever tell you there was a cave behind that waterfall?”

“Oh really?” she breathed.

“Aye. And not a creepy cave; it’s rather cozy, well-lit…plush.”

“Lead the way.”

With a hooded gaze, he took her hand and dragged her through the water toward the fall, magically parting it reveal the nook behind.

And as the curtain of water fell closed behind her, all she could think was how she couldn’t wait to get hot and sweaty again.

tagging some other fae!killian fans: @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @thesschesthair @its-like-a-story-of-love @shipsxahoy @phiralovesloki @nfbagelperson @fairytalesandtimetravel @the-captains-ayebrows @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @ultraluckycatnd and I’m probably forgetting some bc it’s been a while; apologies!

[initiala]

Prompt: descriptive uncircumcised hand/blow job from Emma to Killian? The way you had it in Ecstacy was hot as fuck, even if it was just a little sentence!! I don't know why, but I loved it so much and it was a huge turn on!!: "like that… pull the skin up over the… Oh God, Emma…”

theeeeeeeee oldest prompt still alive/uneaten in my askbox, let’s suck some diiiiiiiiiicks

hiatus between 4a and 4b

There are a lot of questions Emma still feels are too weird to ask and keeps her mouth shut about – how did people get ringlets in the Enchanted Forest? Did corsets ever get more comfortable or were there some spleen issues her mom needed to see a doctor about? Was virginity as overrated there as it was here? How did anyone survive before tampons? Or Advil? How many expensive foreign vases given as gifts from ambassadors would she have been allowed to break in a princessy tantrum? Can Granny teach her how to shoot that crossbow sometime?

“Hey, did you know that yours is the second uncut dick I’ve ever seen?” is one she never expected to think up, and she definitely doesn’t voice that aloud.

(Really, thinking about her ex in this scenario shouldn’t happen at all, but she does have him to thank for knowing what to do in this scenario.)

As irritating as not having her own place is, half the fun of these stolen moments in Killian’s rented room is seeing how far they can go before Granny gives them dirty looks at breakfast the next morning. An inn run by wolves is not an inn that allows for very much privacy, but Emma’s determined not to let that stop her from seeing if after talking the talk Killian can walk the walk.

(Oh, he definitely can walk the walk. Some mornings Emma isn’t sure she can walk the walk of shame back to the loft.)

But this, she decides as she slowly strips him of all the layers of clothing he insists on wearing to cover up that strong, lean body, is uncharted territory.

Sort of.

Killian always insists on making these encounters all about her and her pleasure – which is great, she’s not complaining about that, she can count on one hand the number of guys who have ever gone down on her without prompting – but he seems… shy? About letting her reciprocate? He doesn’t mind her hands on him at all, (seems to encourage it, the man loves having his ass grabbed), but any hint of a blowjob has him insisting he needs to be inside her right this minute and offering up a condom.

Which, okay, she’s also not complaining about.

But dammit, she likes giving blowjobs – she’s pretty great at them, actually, if her past encounters are anything to go on, and she’s eager to see if she passes muster with him. There’s something about tongues that lets them find all the hidden pleasure spots on a cock and she knows for a fact that she hasn’t come close to finding all of his secrets.

Not to mention, it’s been a while since she’s handled someone this large, and uncircumcised to top it off, and it’s kind of a challenge she’s set for herself.

Killian utters a desperate, harsh curse as her hand wraps around his cock. “Emma–”

She hums, pleased that she’s already got him this wrecked. “Yes?” she asks sweetly, gently pulling the skin up over the head and earning a broken moan in response. Her free hand works his pants down around his thighs and she drops to her knees in front of him. “Did you want something, Killian?”

She flicks her tongue out, licking up the drop of precum leaking from the tip, and he lets out a guttural, “No, no, no, Emma stop–”

She sits back on her heels, releasing him; the rejection stings but she tries not to let it show on her face. The worried crease between his brows says she’s failing. “What’s wrong?” she asks, hating how small her voice sounds.

“I don’t –” It’s hard for him to speak and if she wasn’t so put-out then she’d find this incredibly hot: shirt and pants barely hanging on, sweat glistening on his skin, hook embedded into the wall, Killian out of breath and at a loss for words for the first time in his life. “I don’t want to – to degrade you as such, love.”

Now it’s her turn to be at a loss for words. She gapes a little, staring hard and trying to figure out just what the hell he’s talking about, when he glances away, the flush on his cheeks spreading up to the tips of his ears. “Please, don’t tempt me.”

Some of her confusion clears up: he does want this, if the sight of her on her knees and her mouth open can affect him as such. But– “Okay, I’m gonna need a bit more to go on that this,” she says. “I’ve been trying to suck you off for weeks, Killian, and you’re what, too much of a gentleman to let me?”

“Emma–” He looks pained, then dislodges his hook from the wall. He winces as he slides to the floor, still half-naked, cock still at attention and damn if Emma doesn’t want to give it the attention he wants. “Look, lass, it’s not… becoming of a lady of your stature. I’ve paid doxies for less, but even the loosest slattern in Tortuga would suck a man’s cock for free.”

“Okay.” She blinks at him, suddenly very aware (again) of just how very different their worlds are. Well, in most ways. It’s not like there aren’t people like that here (she’s a teenage runaway, she’s seen her fair share of desperate people) but this isn’t the seventeen hundreds and she isn’t some loose slattern in Tortuga. “But I just want you to know, I don’t think it’s degrading. Even though I’m technically a princess, I wasn’t raised one. I was raised here, where sucking a man’s cock is pretty normal foreplay, and it’s something that I happen to like. I’m actually pretty good at.”

He’s still flushed but he meets her eyes. “You like it?”

She nods. “It’s kind of a turn-on. But it’s your call. If you’re not comfortable, I won’t push it.”

It feels like he’s trying to find something with how intently he’s searching her eyes with his. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and she can see his Adam’s apple bob. “Well, Swan,” he says, the wobble in his voice giving away his nerves, “I’d say let’s see if you live up to that bluster.”

She smiles. “Up on the bed.”

He obeys; it’s easier this way, and she manages to get his pants all the way off while he gets comfortable. It takes a few brisk strokes to get him fully erect once more; once she feels his eyes on her, she slows her pace, dragging the foreskin up and squeezing just enough below the tip to pop the hidden ridge. Killian’s breathing quickens again as she repeats the motion a few more times. It’s practically staring her down, this red and weeping cock, daring her to take it in her mouth, and Emma Swan is not one to back down from a challenge.

She licks up the precum, teasing the slit with a few swirls of her tongue, before taking the whole head into her mouth. Killian’s groan can probably be heard halfway across town but Emma can’t bring herself to care right now. She takes him in a little at a time, her hand still gripping the shaft and working him up as she relaxes her jaw. Her tongue traces the veins it can find and she hums when his hand works its way into her hair.

It takes her a moment to realize he’s murmuring encouragements, telling her how good she feels, how sweet her mouth is, how no one’s found this many sensitive spots before. She pays particular attention to the spots his foreskin leaves exposed, making note of the kinds of gasps and whines of pleasure he makes when her tongue runs circles along his skin.

She lets her hand drop to fondle his balls and Killian’s hand in her hair tightens as he hisses out a, “Gods, Swan–” but nothing prepares her for the cry he lets out when she takes him in fully, the head of his cock brushing the back of her throat. It’s been a long time since she’s tried this so it doesn’t last more than a few bobs of her head, but it seems to be enough because she feels him pulse just a moment before the briny taste of his seed shoots into her mouth. He’s pulling out even as he comes, and the result is lines of the stuff dripping down her chin and across her sweater.

It takes her a minute to realize what happened, then she starts to laugh. Killian, leaning back on his elbows and catching his breath, looks up. He starts to say something – probably apologize – but Emma shakes her head, still giggling. After another moment, Killian starts to laugh too. As she wipes her face off with the bottom of her sweater – it’s destined for the wash now anyway, at least she’s wearing a camisole underneath – Emma decides that she’s pretty sure of all the sounds he’s made tonight, that one’s her favorite.

“Sheriff, who do I call to make a noise complaint to when you’re the one making the noise?” Granny asks as they come down to the diner in the morning.

Emma, dressed in her jacket, camisole and jeans from last night, and with her desperately-in-need-of-washing hair in a ponytail under her beanie, is relieved to see the diner’s empty – it’s just after the morning rush and too early for the brunch crowd – though she suspects Granny wouldn’t loudly embarrass her in front of the breakfast crew.

Quietly, yes. With pointed looks and innuendo that made even Killian blush.

“Sorry, Widow Lucas,” Killian says gallantly, taking a seat at the bar. “What say we order the farmer’s breakfast as penance?”

Granny rolls her eyes, setting down the coffee pot harder than strictly necessary as she bustles over to get clean mugs. “Penance is not finding your room trashed again, pirate. I hear enough around this joint without having to put visuals to it.”

Emma busies herself behind a newspaper someone left behind, trying to hide her burning cheeks and wondering when she might be able to convince her parents to have a night on the town so she and Killian might have some privacy at the loft.

[laschatzi]

This is simply gorgeous.

Wouldn’t You Like To Know - 1/1

SUMMARY:  This is my take on How And When Emma And Killian Got Together.

Three moments in time inside S3, three turning points on their road to each other.

Also known as my entry for @csjanuaryjoy, and my very first foray into canon.

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AO3

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A/N:  Well.  i used to say i can’t write fluff.  Or smut.  Or canon.  @profdanglaisstuff has disabused me of 2/3 of these notions, and is working hard on eradicating the last one.  (So, yes, @kmomof4​, i might write smut someday.  i said SOMEDAY!)  

Honey, i owe you everything, but never more than this fic, i swear.  ❤

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THANK YOU @csjanuaryjoy and the discord for the event and the support and the everything!  And @ohmightydevviepuu​ & @shardminds​ for being the amazing people you are.  Especially when you do not laugh at me when i go and have crazy notions.

And most importantly: love and hugs to ALL OF YOU reading The Stories, yes, ALL OF YOU, because you are the wonderfullest and i still cannot believe i was lucky enough to stumble into this fandom.  i love you lots, you know.

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If you want on or off this tag list, let me know!  (And seriously - if it’s ‘off’ please don’t worry.  Absolutely no hard feelings.)

@mariakov81 @stahlop @thejollyroger-writer @snowbellewells @captainsjedi @toomanyfandomstochoosefrom @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @mayquita @ohmightydevviepuu @sals86 @karenfrommisthaven @kmomof4 @kday426 @superchocovian @jennjenn615  @facesiousbutton82 @suwya @spartanguard @capnjay21 @shardminds @carpedzem @girl-in-a-tiny-box @ilovemesomekillianjones @shireness-says 

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In the end, it’s a tree that gets her. 

Yes.  A tree. 

  There are many ‘nevers’ in Neverland.  They have to do with the fact that time passes without being spent, the fact that things always stay the same, indefinitely, eternally. 

The madness in the eyes of the Lost Boys is not just the madness of the disenfranchised.  It is also the madness of lessons not learned, of experience not gained, of lives lived on repeat, lives which never move forward. 

He has that look in his eyes sometimes, she has seen it.  The look that both guides and enslaves the Lost Boys under the yoke, under the tyranny of the everlasting present.  The power of youth is the unquestioning knowledge that life is eternal and you are invincible, and it is the fact that neither is true which gives youth its power.

But in Neverland life is eternal, and it turns this power into oppression, into subjugation, into the iron choke-hold of infinity.

She has seen it in his eyes, now that they are back here in this cursed land; flashes of fear in the face of this fantasy.  He is no longer under its spell, but he is afraid.

. 

There is the ‘never’ of A One Time Thing.  (We will never do this again.)

The ‘never’ of I Never Thought I’d Be Capable Of Letting Go Of My First Love.  (I have never been so wrong.)

And the ‘never’ of I Have Yet To See You Fail.  (You will never be found lacking.)

She holds on to that last one with both hands.

Until she gets to that tree.

.

Weiterlesen

[seriouslyhooked]

False Alarms (A CS AU) Part 6/?

Modern AU where Emma is a Boston police detective and Killian is firefighter. They both get called to a fire in progress but it ends up being a false alarm, however there can be no denying the sparks between them. Includes fluff and my usual attempts at humor as well as a touch of fake-dating and meddling friends. Inspired by the song ‘False Alarm’ by Motoma and Becky Hill. Rated M for future chapters.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five ; On Fanfiction Here.

A/N: So despite the title of this fic, not every call in the line of duty for a cop or a firefighter can be a false alarm, and sometimes there are pretty close calls. This chapter will be dealing with one of those. But don’t worry, I never linger on angst for long, and the chapter also introduces the M rating so there’s smuff to smooth over any would-be anxiety. Hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading!

“Can you believe the day we’ve got going right now?” Graham asked, standing at the doorway of the station by Killian’s side, watching as the rest of the crew worked on cleaning off the engines outside.

The weather merited comment today because despite the fact that they were still braving the winter months, Mother Nature had brought a surprise – a gloriously sunny day with temperatures more befitting May than anything else. It was a nice change, and had vastly improved the moods not just of the others at the firehouse, but the people in the city as well. Killian appreciated it too, but to be honest, his mood hadn’t needed any heavy lifting. He was enjoying life to the fullest already, and he had one blonde, brilliant detective to thank for that.

“You know they warn you about New England winters when you take this job,” Killian affirmed, “They tell you all about the blizzards and how snow emergencies can effect a ride and response. But they don’t prepare you for days like this.”

“Well get used to the changes. With our luck we’ll get a week of warm temps and sunshine and then another two feet of snow. If there’s one thing to know, it’s you can’t trust Boston weather.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Killian replied, enjoying his morning coffee as he and Graham watched a fight on the cusp of starting.

“I swear to God Scarlet if you spray me with that hose I will actually kill you!” The threat from Tink was completely serious, and Killian winced just thinking about how angry their ladder leader would get if Will was as hair brained as he pretended to be and turned the spray her way.

“Aw come on Tink. I’m practically you’re oldest friend…” Will baited and Tink scoffed, shaking the towel in her hand at him.

“Bull shit! And you can kiss the idea of me even tolerating you goodbye if you mess with me right now. I’m serious Will, back off.”

Tink was already poised to act and whether it was to either sprint away or charge Will, Killian couldn’t say. But he could see the actual consideration in Will’s eyes. He trusted his friend would make the right choice and be a grown adult about this, but then a challenge was presented and Killian didn’t know what to expect.

“I say you do it man,” Gus joked from the other engine. “No one’s gotten Tink real mad in a while.”

“Because everyone wants to remain in one piece,” Tink snapped causing a chorus of ‘oohs’ from the others cleaning.

A number of scenarios passed through Killian’s mind in that moment, and though he knew the firehouse was bound tightly together in a unit, there was a risk here. Tink did have a bit of a temper after all, and Will did like to push the envelope. Besides, with Gus getting involved and putting his two cents in as the probie and low-man on the pole, they might be in real trouble. Someone should step in.

“Anyone who starts a water fight is getting kitchen clean up for a week, you got that?” Graham called out beside him and Killian grinned at his lieutenant.

“Some days I wonder why you don’t have my job,” Killian admitted only half joking.

“Some days I wonder the same thing,” Graham tossed back humorously before another cry came from the truck bay.

“Did you all see this week’s picture?” one of the EMT’s named Thomas asked. “Sergeant Jones and his girl got pretty cozy at that open house.”

The response from everyone was a rowdy one as Killian had come to expect whenever Emma was brought up. He was a bit disheartened though since he thought he’d successfully hidden the copies of The Globe that were dropped off at the house this morning. Clearly some of them had gone unchecked, or Thomas had just been snooping. As such the squad now had access to a picture of Killian and Emma sharing a smile while in the company of some of the city’s cutest kids donning fake police badges and fire hats. It was ‘PR gold’ as Emma’s mother and the mayor’s office had put it, but Killian saw it as a snapshot of a great memory he was glad to have.

Thinking back to that afternoon just a few days back, Killian had the immediate urge to smile. It had been chaos in so many ways, with the engine house they’d used as a base swarming with children and their families as well as neighbors from the borough that the engine serviced. It was loud and packed with people, and in the midst of all of that, Emma and Killian had known they’d be watched all afternoon. But Emma, charming and graceful as she was, decided to put her best foot forward and to bring Killian with her.

Hours passed in the most enjoyable way, with Emma and Killian leading different games and answering questions for the little ones, and at more than one instance Killian found himself watching her. Surrounded by all these children and enjoying herself in a way that was reminiscent of being a kid herself, Emma was beautiful, entrancing, and impossible to ignore. Killian pondered most of the afternoon about what it would be like for Emma to have children of her own. He knew she’d be a spectacular mother, but in those imaginings Emma wasn’t going it alone – no, she was standing there with him, sending him that same knowing smile and lighting up his world.

It was crazy to think how little time they’d known each other and already Killian’s imagination was running away with him this way. He’d never experienced anything like it, but the sureness he had in Emma was unchecked. There was just something about her that eased his worries and convinced him that more was possible. With Emma in his life and in his world, everything seemed brighter and more vibrant. For the first time Killian wasn’t just content but actually happy and he had to credit that change to Emma. She was the one who gave him that, and the one who he was starting to build so many hopes for the future on.

“So remind me again how the new Sergeant not only scores one Detective Emma Nolan, but also gets the acceptance of the District Chief? Because something just isn’t adding up here.”

Will’s words pulled Killian back from the haze of his recent memories. They were meant in jest clearly, and Killian could read his friend’s humor in all of this, but it still set him on edge to discuss his relationship publically. 

Killian had long prided himself on being a man who spoke the truth. Honor was important to him, and full disclosure with his team was a part of that code he held so close, but when it came to him and Emma things were complicated. The start of their relationship had been unique, and though they were dating now and they had an understanding between them that this was a permanent, exclusive, romantic attachment, there was still the matter of telling her parents it was a real thing between them.

“I feel like maybe we can cross that bridge when we get there,” Emma said the night before when she was at his place and in his arms. “Besides, if you think my Mom is overbearing now, just wait until I tell her I actually like you. She’ll take it to a whole new level.”

Killian smiled now thinking of the way Emma put it, and the way he’d made her admit that there was more than mere ‘liking’ between them. It might not be love (at least not declared between the two of them), but the promise from Emma that they mattered and that they were starting something together that was real and worth exploring soothed something in Killian. He couldn’t shake the feeling that as long as he had Emma, everything would be all right, and so he didn’t dare risk losing her.

“It’s likely thanks to my dashing good looks and roguish charisma,” Killian quipped and the whole squad laughed at that ridiculous statement, but Will was onto Killian and his friend didn’t look inclined to let it go easily. Before Will could make some witty retort, however, the alarm blared through the space around them, setting everyone off into an instinctual set of movements to man to trucks.

“Saved by the bell,” Graham said as Killian and he headed into the house to gear up. Killian shook his head, knowing he shouldn’t engage in the teasing any longer. Now was the time to get serious again and focus entirely on doing things right and getting to whatever situation awaited them, but he couldn’t help pointing out an obvious fact to Graham.

“And you’ve been saved from speculation by me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the lack of scrutiny you’ve gotten with your own detective,” Killian said and Graham laughed.

“Fair enough.”

Grabbing their gear and manning their stations was second nature to most everyone in the house. The rigorous training they’d all gone through and the years of experience most of the people on this team had made for a well-oiled machine that performed even as the harsh tones of the alarm droned on and on. This was a familiar dance to all of them, and for Killian that continued wailing sound was what put him in the headspace he needed. It got him moving at top speed and kept him vigilant to the others, making sure they all filed into place with speed and efficiency all in one.

Once on the trucks, they got the basics from their dispatch team – fire in progress in a warehouse on the south side of their district by the docks. There wasn’t as of yet an alarm number garnered, but from the description the 9-11 call had made, it was shaping up to be a big one.

The ride from the firehouse to the docks was mercifully smooth without the added burden of rush hour traffic before them all, but it would never be truly easy maneuvering one of these engines through city streets. If he’d had space in his mind to do more than focus on the possibilities a warehouse fire could bring, Killian would likely applaud his team members manning these vessels right now.

By the time they arrived, station thirty-two was already on site and making moves to start an offensive against the blaze and when Killian touched base with their Captain the plan was made clear. This would be a three-pronged fight: They’d attack from the exterior, the lower levels and a special unit entering from higher above. Thirty-two would provide the higher reaches and some exterior work, leaving Killian and Graham leading the majority of their team inside.

Conversation was brief, with just the basic directions of the plan in place, and though there was some idea of what they might be walking into, none of them were stupid enough to think they could totally anticipate this fire. That should have gone unspoken and be branded in the minds of every fighter on this team, but Killian repeated that sentiment again for the record into his headset.

“We all come home tonight, and we do that by sticking the course and following orders. You got that?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” his team responded and then they were off, cutting through the smoke and flame to try and do their job and prevent more damage to this section of the docks.

Visibility in the warehouse was low thanks to the billowing smoke, but it wasn’t the worst Killian had ever been through, and at first he was confident in every move his team made. They made note of what corners and portions could be swept through first, and the primary objective was to see if anyone was inside. This wasn’t a residential building, but there was always the chance with big spaces like this of someone coming in for some reason and not being accounted for. They needed to clear every corner they could and then start the hard work, but all through this each member of their team knew when to call out and check in.

“We’ve got a problem, Sergeant,” Will called out at one point and then he flashed his light towards a far corner that had a half a dozen large drums of a material they couldn’t ascertain from this distance. “Probably flammable; could go up and mess up the whole structure.”

“Thirty-two be advised we’ve got a possible accelerant on the north side along the walls. Abort entry,” Killian said into the radio, hearing the acknowledgment of the other team just before a blast came from those tubs. The force of the blast was harsh and harrowing, and just as Will had expected it created a host of problems, not the least of which was the added instability of the beams above them.

“Tink, where are we out outside?” Killian asked, already anticipating her response.

“Those flames spiked high sir, and it’s infiltrated the warehouse next door. We’re trying to control it.”

Damnit! Killian thought to himself. That would change the plan and just as he was formulating their need to get out of here, Graham mirrored his thoughts with a proclamation of his own.

“It’s too hot in here, Serg! We gotta tackle this thing outside!” Graham exclaimed and Killian agreed, ordering everyone out of there now, but from the corner of his eye Killian noticed one of his men lagging behind. It was Gus, their probie, and his staggered movements and bent over frame immediately told Killian what was wrong: the smoke was getting to him and so something must be wrong with his suit.

“Get everyone out!” Killian ordered Graham and then without thought for anything else Killian sprinted back the extra distance, grabbing onto Gus just as it seemed his body might give way.

The man’s knees went weak, but he was conscious and that was something. Killian tried to tell him to hold on, but all of this was pure instinct now. He had to make a way for them out of this and it was easier said than done. Gus wasn’t a tiny guy by any means, but Killian had carried more and been through worse. He didn’t have any real fears until a portion of the rafters above came down, blocking their original path out and separating them from the rest of the team.

“Damn it!” Killian yelled to no one in particular, but he scouted another way, not letting himself fear what he had to do. Right now the key was survival and getting him and Gus out of there as fast as he could.

It was hard to find an answer right away, and that wasn’t helped by the continued calls on his attention from the others through their headsets. He begged them all for quiet and to keep going, but with every passing second doubt crept in. Then when a path seemed impossible to find, Killian felt this unfamiliar need welling inside him. He couldn’t accept defeat – he had to keep going. There was too much to fight for, and one woman in particular who he had to see again. He had to get out of here and then home to see her.

Clutching onto that feeling that he could not fail, Killian meandered around the wreckage and got them to the exit, but he could feel the damage to his suit when they made it into the blinding brightness of outside and knew he’d nicked himself a few places and risked a few burns. Graham was right about those temps, it was too hot in there, and he was gasping for air by the time they got outside.

“We need some help over here!” Graham yelled as he and Killian looked over a clearly dazed Gus who was spread out on the ground a safe distance from the blaze.

Graham made quick work of checking Gus’ equipment and saw the fracture in his mask and mouthpiece, making note of it to Killian. Now the only question was had that been there when Gus grabbed it before, and if so, did the man realize how bloody dangerous it was to go into a fire without every piece of equipment working at top ability? At the same time the EMTs responded, treating Gus and assessing that there was some damage from the inhalation and a mild concussion from some of the jerked motions Killian had to make to get them out but nothing terribly serious.

“We gotta take him to Mass Gen, but it doesn’t look life threatening,” Thomas said leading Killian to sigh in relief. Well that was one thing they didn’t have to worry about.

“Wouldn’t have been able to say the same thing if you hadn’t gone back for him, Serg” Will noted and Killian shook his head, not wanting them all to get sidetracked.

“We can hash it all out later. Right now we’ve got to be mindful. We can’t take our eyes off of this,” Killian said, mentally calculating that everyone on his team was now outside and safely battling the flames. They were and that gave him some small comfort.

“There’s no we right now, Sarg. You’ve gotta get checked out too. Last thing we need is you falling apart on us” Will argued, all of his teasing from before long gone. There was almost a command in his friend’s voice, as if he were the superior in this situation. It made Killian laugh, but the sound came out harsh and grating and provided no comfort for any of the others.

“I’ve got this for now,” Graham promised and Killian nodded, knowing it was better to let them clear him in the ambulance and keep his eye on things from afar then to fight them on it and find out there was trouble later.

In the end Killian was willing to give the paramedics twenty minute of time and in that they confirmed that his own injuries were minimal. He heard the phrase ‘close call’ a few more times than he would have liked, but Killian also knew they were right. His suit had managed to take most of the hit today, but he’d have some aches and pains for a few days, and he was a little cut up here and there. As it was he was damn lucky, and so was Gus. This whole scenario could have played out very differently.

But Killian wouldn’t let himself linger on that. Instead he returned to his post by the ladder and with his people until they were called off and relieved. The blaze was dying down (thanks to the milder weather that meant the water wasn’t freezing as it would have just a few days ago) by the time his team departed, and all along the ride home there was silence as if the crew knew just how near they’d been to a more tragic afternoon. Only when they were back at the house did Will speak up.

“Shift’s over in twenty minutes and I’m sure probie will still be at Mass Gen.”

The chorus of agreements signaled to Killian that they’d all be going to see him, but Killian didn’t think he could face that today. He needed the space to get his head on straight before going to see Gus, otherwise he ran the risk of berating the poor kid for his rookie mistake. From the way Graham said nothing and stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, Killian took that his Lieutenant felt the same way.

“I’ll brief the Captain on what happened and check on Gus after. Maybe by then I’ll stand a chance of not reading him the riot act.”

“I appreciate it, mate,” Killian said readying himself to get out of here. He was in need of a shower and some clean clothes and then he’d be heading directly to Emma’s. Well that was if she could see him, which he desperately hoped she could.

“Tink will take you home,” Graham said and Killian started to refuse but it was Tink who put her foot down.

“Don’t even start. You’re going home and that’s that.”

Killian decided not to argue and figured the slight delay wouldn’t kill him. Though he didn’t want to have to be patient, Killian would be to put his crew at ease and it would give him time to get himself a bit more under control before he saw Emma. Without that chance he might just take her in his arms and never let go.

“Hey Sergeant?” Graham called out later when Killian was just about to leave with Tink. Killian turned back to his colleague, finding his friend looking serious.  “When we were joking earlier about who has which job, I didn’t mean anything by it, and if I had, I definitely wouldn’t mean it after today. This house needs you.”

“A Sergeant is only as good as his team, Graham. You’ll learn that soon enough,” Killian offered, slapping his new friend on the shoulder in an unspoken salute of thanks before heading out in the hopes of finding Emma, the woman who had unintentionally seen him through today in a truly miraculous way.

…………

Distractions while on duty weren’t something that Emma or Ruby often found themselves subject to. There was a state of mind both friends entered when they were officially on the clock and serving this city that they didn’t mess with. They prided themselves on being on their A game anytime they donned their badge, but today a wrench was thrown in their usual way of doing things and it all stemmed from one call that came over the radio:

“We’ve got a possible four alarm in progress at 69 Harrison. Be advised that firehouses sixty-one and thirty-two are en route and patrol from District three is clearing the area and setting a perimeter.”

That warning had been sent out three hours ago and the fire had been roaring away steadily according to the updates Ruby and Emma had been able to get. They weren’t able to sit on the radio waves listening because they still had work to do, but the situation wasn’t far from either of their minds. It followed them through secondary interviews from an incident from the last shift, consulting with some academy teachers who wanted them to give a lecture on rising through the ranks, and a drive-by check of one of the local businesses where the owner was wary of people casing for an easy robbery mark.

But finally when their shift was over, Emma and Ruby came to the unspoken agreement that they were sticking together until there was word one way or another. Now they were sitting at the counter of the bar just across the way from the station and waiting over a drink for what Emma had to believe would be a routine end to a pretty bad fire. She couldn’t let herself linger in thoughts that something could go wrong because this was their reality. Killian was a firefighter and he loved what he did. Emma had seen that same dedication when it came to her Dad and his work too, and that passion and capability would keep him safe. It just had to.

At the same time though, Emma was craving some kind of closeness with Killian right now, and she’d found it with what Ruby acknowledged was a peculiar choice in drink for her. Rum wasn’t usually Emma’s go to choice, but Killian liked it and the other night when he’d invited her to his apartment for the first time it was all he’d had to offer. It was nice though, and the taste and burn on her tongue helped zap away some of the underlying current of worry and reminded her of the kisses they’d subsequently shared that night at his place.

“How did your Mom do this for so long?” Ruby asked, clearly feeling the uncertainty a little more than Emma currently was.

That’s not to say that Emma wasn’t worried; there were a lot of factors when it came to firefighting that could put Killian and his crew at risk, and it wasn’t exactly the safest line of work by any means, but Mary Margaret Nolan had always been a beacon of strength and hope when her husband was called into the line of duty and she’d passed that onto Emma. You couldn’t worry until the problems came. That wasn’t any way to live.

“A lot of cocoa and a lot of random hobbies. You know all those needlepoint signs my parents have in their house?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded. “Those started one summer when there were a string of arson cases in my Dad’s district, and they just never stopped.”

“Well if I follow in your mother’s footsteps you can be damn sure I’ll drink something stronger than hot chocolate and have dirtier puns on my pillow cases,” Ruby said, trying to joke with Emma despite the continued unease.

“I could help you with some of those if you want,” a voice said from behind them and when they turned around it was Graham. Immediately Ruby was in motion, pulling him down for a kiss that totally disregarded everyone in the place, Emma included. But when they came back up for air (after a rather long and passionate interlude), Graham looked mighty pleased with the warm welcome. “Well hello to you too.”

“Is the fire out?” Emma asked and Graham turned to her with an answer at the ready.

“Almost. We got relieved half an hour ago, though. I’m about to head to Mass Gen and check on one of our guys.”

Emma’s face must have given her concern away though she tried to conceal it as best she could, but when Graham filled in that it was one of the new people on the squad and that Killian was the one who got him out, Emma’s heart restarted again. Killian was safe – and that was what mattered.

“I usually wouldn’t say this – we’ve got fire house superstitions after all – but this one was pretty close, Emma. Killian’s a tough guy, but anyone would be a little shaken up after what he went through. I don’t even know how he managed it honestly.”

“Is he at the station?” Emma asked, already grabbing her jacket, ready to go.

“No, he’s home. I had Tink make sure he got there and I just got a text to confirm it. Maybe you should -,”

“I think Emma’s got a plan already, Graham,” Ruby said, nodding at Emma in a silent exchange. Emma knew if she needed anything Ruby would be there for her and she appreciated it, but right now all she needed was to see Killian and make sure he was really okay.

Getting out of the bar and back to her car, Emma tried to map out exactly what to do here. She and Killian had only been dating a couple of weeks and it was still new and fresh between them, but she wanted to be what Killian needed today and she was also a little selfish in wanting the comfort of being with him too. Despite the brave face she’d held the past few hours she was worried, and the only relief for that built up emotion would be seeing Killian again.

Emma debated calling him and reaching out to check that coming over was even a good idea, and then she considered bringing something with her, but she was at a loss. What did you bring someone who fought a fire and nearly lost? She didn’t know the answer, and when it was her parents in that situation, her Dad always said the best remedy was coming home to his family. They might not be at that level yet, but Emma did know that she mattered to Killian, and if there was even a chance that her presence would help him then she needed to give him that.

Just as Emma parked her car in front of Killian’s loft, her phone rang and the sound split through Emma’s internal planning about what to say and how to act and jolted her back to the present. Emma fully intended to ignore whoever was on the other end of this call, but then she saw it was Killian and she knew she had to answer even as she was crossing the street to get to him right now.

“Killian,” Emma said, not having anything else but him name that she could think to say right now, and from the relieved sigh on the other end of the phone he didn’t seem to mind.

“God it’s good to hear your voice, love.”

“Rough day?” She asked, already knowing it had been worse than rough and Killian let out a half-hearted chuckle.

“I’ve certainly had better,” he said as Emma managed to slip inside the building when another tenant was leaving. She headed up the stairs two at a time as he made a request that warmed her heart. “I was wondering... is there any way I might see you tonight, love? I know you’ve had a long day of your own but…”

“I think that might be arranged,” Emma agreed and before Killian could reply with any kind of particulars, she knocked at his front door and found him on the other side looking downright thrilled to see her.

“Emma,” he said, forgetting his phone and pulling her into his arms quickly.

She melted into Killian’s embrace without hesitation and then she closed her eyes, trying to deal with the fact that the smell of smoke still lingered on him. It was just another reminder for her of what Graham had said – they’d had a real close call today and she could have possibly lost this man she’d only just found. To combat the swell of emotion that thought brought, Emma tried to ground herself in the fact that he was really here.

Beyond the smoke was the familiar scent that she’d come to associate with Killian, and the warmth of his arms around her. She felt that same comfort that only Killian ever provided and Emma felt even more secure in her choice to come here as he mumbled relieved words. They were whispered so low she couldn’t hear much more than the slight lilt of his action and the reverent tone but they were perfect all the same.

Finally Emma pulled back to look at him and she took everything in, wiping away a slight smudge of black soot he’d missed from his handsome face and noticing the scratches he’d accrued in today’s action. If she had to guess he’d be a little worse for wear all over, but he was here and whole and that was the most important thing.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, clearly still stunned.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she confessed.

With that Emma pressed a kiss to his lips that went from soft and sweet to heated all too fast. Emma understood why that was. They were both trying to find a way to channel the immense emotions in the room, but she didn’t want to get so caught up in the physical that she wasn’t really there for Killian. So as hard as it was to pull back, Emma did so, looking back into his eyes that now seemed slightly warmer and offering a small smile.

“The way I see it we have to options. You tell me what happened today over some rum, or we actively avoid what happened today, also with rum. Your call.”

Killian’s smile actually reached his eyes in that moment, and he ran his thumb along her cheek, gazing at her with this mix of affection and awe that made Emma feel like she was so much more powerful than she felt. The only thing she could offer Killian right now was company and maybe the comfort of listening, but he made her feel like she was the answer to all of his problems with a simple look.

“You are remarkable, Emma. I hope you know that,” he whispered, sending a thrill of pleasure through her. Then he took her hand in his and led her to the couch as he went to go get them two glasses and the bottle of rum she knew that he had here. When he was back, Killian made sure to keep no distance between them, and Emma was pulled into his arms, loving that way that she was so wrapped up in him and connected like this.

“So what’s the verdict?” Emma asked and Killian chuckled shaking his head.

“Part of me is tempted to take you up on the offer of avoidance, but I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn’t do that anymore. Better to face the darkness head on than suffer the fall out later.”

Emma was so relieved to hear that he felt that way, because she’d always seen things that way in her line of work too. Her parents taught her from the start of her time on the force that bad things would happen. Cases would go south in an instant, people would get hurt or worse, and the good guys didn’t always win despite what the fairy tales said. But the only way through pain was to face it, and the only way to keep in jobs like these was to acknowledge the risk and to accept that things happened for a reason, even if there was no explanation you could understand.

“Graham said something about the probie…” Emma urged on and Killian nodded.

“Aye, Gus. He’s a good man but wet behind the ears. He should have seen the problem before it got so bad – his mask was damaged even before we faced the flames - but he’s still new and he’s still got that need for the action over safety. He hasn’t yet learned that a fire doesn’t care if your heart’s in the right place. Destruction comes to anything that stands in its path and today it could have taken him.”

“But you didn’t let that happen,” Emma said, not knowing the full details but instinctively guessing that Killian would always be mindful of the men and women of his house.

“No, I didn’t. But it wasn’t easy, and there was a moment in there when I… when I thought I might have made the wrong call. I couldn’t see a way out of there, but I had to.”

Emma’s hand ran along his chest as she stayed tucked into him. She could feel the tightness in her throat as it constricted with residual fear. God that must have been terrifying – knowing that you were trying to save someone and that you might have just sacrificed yourself in the process. But it was also a spike in fear and emotion that she understood. She’d been in a few touch and go firefights before, had a few close calls where a bulletproof vest had made the difference between her coming home that night and never coming home again, but the fear was always there every time. Even if it was your instinct to protect others, it didn’t make you feel brave, at least it never had for Emma.

“I thought of you in that moment, Emma. That moment when I didn’t know if we’d get through that door, you were there. I heard your voice and thought to myself that I couldn’t have heard it for the last time. I couldn’t never see your smile again or watch the way your whole person lights up when you laugh. I had to get out of there, and so I did.”

“Killian, I -,”

Killian put their glasses back down on the table before them before bringing Emma to face him completely. His earnestness in this moment was almost overwhelming, and the tears that had been forming through some of his professions about how much she meant to him became that much more prominent. He noticed them too, and Emma could hear the tautness of his tone as a response.

“Look, Emma, I don’t want to rush things or make you feel like you have to feel a certain way, but I’ve known for a while that what we’re doing here… it’s bigger than anything I’ve done in my past. Being with you brings more than mere happiness to my world, love. It’s like when I’m with you, I’ve the remedy to move past everything else.”

Emma bit her lip, wanting to say the same thing to him because she could feel this connection he was talking about. A lot of her old fears and worries were assuaged by Killian’s presence. He was a positive force in her life that didn’t take, take, take, but gave her so much instead. Nothing about Killian was contrived or forced – he was totally genuine and that was so amazing to her, because it meant that all the intense emotions she had about him were actually mirrored back. For once she wasn’t terrified of getting hurt. She trusted this man with her heart and she had given that trust to him faster than she’d ever been able to with anyone else.

“It’s like I said though, love, I don’t expect anything. I just -,”

In that moment, Emma couldn’t stand to hear him second guessing himself and she silenced his worries with another kiss. This time though, Emma didn’t care about getting carried away, in fact she felt free to push for so much more with Killian because of what they’d just shared. This level of openness and honesty was invigorating even where it once would have terrified her and today Killian had let himself be vulnerable with her, which truly led Emma to believe that she could do the same with him. With Killian taking the risk didn’t actually seem so risky, and walking away from the way she felt right now with him flush against her and seeking out more, just wasn’t an option.

“This is different for me too,” Emma said when they pulled back, her eyes fluttering open in time to see the adorably smitten look on Killian’s face right now. It made her whole body heat even more than the kiss had and it prompted her further with her confessions. “And I’m not exactly an expert when it comes to relationships, but I think if we’ve found something like this we should go for it, fast or not.”

“God I love the sound of that,” Killian said, and the undeniable honesty in the way he said it was the final breaking point for her. Suddenly Emma was so far past her more honorable intentions of before, and all she wanted was her and Killian as close as they could be. 

Killian must have understood her shifts in need, and he was hardly unhappy with the prospect, sweeping her up with him to his bedroom (despite the injuries she knew he must have), and taking her breath away with kisses and attentions that never stopped. He was everywhere all at once, but still Emma wanted more and she knew just how to get it. With a firm push against his chest, she separated them, moving to strip away her clothes from today with a clear, slow intent.

“You gonna just stand there or are you going to join me?” Emma asked after a few seconds of watching Killian take her in. His eyes on her fed this part of Emma that had gone hungry for so long and she felt powerful and wanted in a way that she loved. But she also wanted him with her, and she wanted them both so lost in each other that they forgot everything about today and pushed past it to something so much more desirable.

“Can’t fault a man for looking, love. You’re like heaven itself.”

Emma flushed at the compliment, but she was determined to make him move so she could get her chance to look her fill too. So when she was just about to remove her bra she stalled, flicking up a suggestive smile to this man who was totally focused on her.

“Lose the clothes, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

This time Killian quickly responded but there was a look in his eyes that said he was humoring her. She might have just given the command, but it was only a matter of time before he turned the tables and used that sexy as sin voice and his all too fantastic skill in making her mindless with pleasure against her. Just the thought had her mind racing, and by the time he’d actually gotten around to stripping away his shirt and pants she was shaking with the anticipation of everything that was coming.

When both of them were bared to each other, Emma stopped trying to fight for any control and she pulled him down for another scorching kiss as he maneuvered them to the bed. It was a dizzying kind of thrill as Killian’s hands and mouth roamed against her naked flesh, and her heart pounded in her ears even as her whole body hummed out this sound of joy. She was so ready for this, and the incidents of their day had only made that sharp need for him so much keener. What if they’d lost this? Emma couldn’t imagine this being over before it even really had the chance to begin.

Eventually Killian broke away from their hungry kiss and moved down her jaw to her neck and found that spot that always drove her crazy so quickly she had to moan and arch into him, but he had other ideas. The frazzled sense of awe he’d just had was long gone and instead he was all willful command. Killian was totally in control and from the flash of dark heat in his blue eyes Emma knew she was about to reap the benefits of that meticulous worship.

“A bit impatient aren’t we, love?” Killian asked teasingly, with his hot breath against her neck and driving her crazy.

“Can you blame me?” Emma asked, not even bothering to deny it and Killian chuckled as his kisses moved lower along her flesh until he was at her breasts and smiling with that almost infuriatingly attractive grin of his.

“Not when I want you even more than you can possibly imagine.”

Emma was going to argue that that seemed unlikely since he was the one making this a slow, meticulous exploration instead of the hard and fast release she knew he wanted, but then he was peppering her sensitive flesh with just the right mix of kisses, nips, and sucks designed to totally unwind her resistance.

And yes, maybe there was a chance that Emma could have pushed through that onslaught of pleasure to get him to go faster, but the only thing in her mind right now was that Killian needed this. Today had been too close and too dangerous, and now he was reminding them both of what they’d found together and what was waiting for them if they made it through the hard times and back into each other’s arms.

In the midst of his glorious attentions to her breasts, Killian’s hand trailed down her stomach creeping to the vee between her legs where Emma so desperately needed relief. The ache for him was straining to be released, and Killian’s quick attentions to her clit were designed to spark that coiling need into something so much more fulfilling. Before Emma even imagined it could be possible she was falling apart and calling out his name, and when she came down from that haze of perfect feeling, the look in Killian’s eyes was almost wild. He seemed addicted to making her come apart, and Emma swallowed harshly almost fearing just how much he was going to give her to sate that need on his part tonight.

She didn’t have time to worry long though, not when Killian’s mouth moved lower and lower in a rough then reverent way that would likely leave marks on her skin tomorrow. Emma didn’t mind those abrasions. Actually she reveled in the thought that come the morning she’d have those spots of his creation to remind her of this moment right here, when Killian made her feel like anything was possible and she was destined to feel this good every damn day.

By the time he’d gotten to her inner thigh, Emma was pulsing with the need to have his mouth on her sex. Craving that feeling wasn’t even a strong enough word for it – Emma thought she might die without it, and then he was there and she was gone for him all over again. It was pure magic, the feel of Killian making love to her this way and when she’d fallen apart by his ministrations again and was close to another shattering climax she pleaded with him to give them both more.

“Killian – I need you, please.”

Emma wasn’t certain if it was the please or the expression of her need for him, but he mercifully responded by coming back up to her and taking her lips in a hard kiss again. This time she could taste herself and it felt so damn intimate and dirty and fucking perfect, but that was nothing to the moment when he thrust inside her, filling Emma with that feeling of total completion.

The string of curses from Killian made Emma want to laugh but she didn’t have the chance when he was dead set on creating a rhythm that was as close to heaven sent as could be. She wanted to be frustrated at the fact that he’d done so much for her without giving her the chance to return the favor, but his continued praise that he lavished her with as he propelled them further told Emma that Killian had gotten exactly what he wanted. And in the end, all Emma could do was claw at him to get closer and plead for more of the same because she was so freaking close until suddenly she was there, falling apart and loving the fact that she’d brought him with her.

In the aftermath of that earth shattering release, Emma and Killian stayed curled up together in his bed, silently allowing their hands to roam. It was a calmer sense of searching, but Emma didn’t have to look very hard to find what she was looking for. Killian brought her this sense of peace and belonging that she’d never known before, and from the smile on his face and the light in his eyes, Emma knew he was feeling it too. What they had couldn’t be denied in anyway, and that fact led Emma to say something she’d been wanting to find the bravery to say for a while.

“I’m going to tell them,” she whispered and Killian’s brow furrowed at the words.

“Tell them?” he asked, not following her thoughts, which were admittedly random.

“I’m going to tell my parents the truth,” Emma said and Killian’s arms tensed for just a second until Emma ran her hand across his chest soothingly. “I’m going to tell them that this is real - that we are real - and that in a few weeks when the mayor’s office is tired of using us a PR prop, you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Damn right, I’m not,” Killian growled, making Emma giggle as he pulled her closer to him again. “But perhaps you could wait until morning, love. I have a few thoughts left on how to spend the evening, and they weren’t particularly conducive to seeing your folks.”

“Fair enough,” Emma agreed before sealing the agreement with a kiss and falling into this remarkable man all over again.

Post-Note: So first and foremost I want to thank you all for your patience. As you guys can obviously tell this was a much longer break from this story than I first anticipated but there were a couple of reasons for that. The first was I knew I wanted this chapter to include a close call for the firehouse and I needed to make that work. I hate writing angst (and I would call this chapter angst-light at best) but it did take a long time to get all of that on the page for me. Plus this is a longer chapter as you guys can tell and I wanted to find the perfect smuffy ending to ease away any lingering anxieties from the first part of the chapter. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading and I truly hope you guys enjoy. I’m not sure when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully faster than this one was!

[wistfulcynic]

Osaka-shi Serenade 2 / 4

IN WHICH there is Christmas dinner and intense bonding, drunken shenanigans, and smut!

SUMMARY: When Emma Swan’s high school sweetheart betrays her she runs away, as far as she can get… all the way to Japan. She tells herself it’s not running, it’s an adventure, but when she meets a handsome Englishman as broken as she is, will she be brave enough to embark on a new adventure with him?

A//N: THANK YOU ALL for the lovely response to this story! As I said it’s a very personal one, and slower and sweeter than the kinds of things I usually write. I loved living in Japan and writing this has been a trip down memory lane that I’ve very much enjoyed. I’m so pleased you’re enjoying it too!

RATING: M (for this chapter!!)

On AO3

TAGGING: @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @searchingwardrobes @shireness-says @thejollyroger-writer @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and of course @katie-dub and THANKING @distant-rose and @thisonesatellite for being brilliant betas. 

(please let me know if you would like a tag!!)

PART2:

Christmas was, of course, not a holiday celebrated in Japan. 

Of course it wasn’t, thought Emma, as she got ready for work on the 25th of December, five weeks after she’d moved to Osaka. Japan was a primarily Buddhist and Shinto country, and also, as Belle had explained to them in their last team meeting, the New Year was huge, and they would have a full week off for that. Emma understood.

But still, going to work on Christmas felt weird. 

She’d already Skyped with Ingrid and Ruby and wished them Merry Christmas. There was snow in Storybrooke and her adoptive mom had carried the laptop outside to show her the snowman she and Leo had built, and all the presents under the tree, and even though Emma knew it was really just another day on the calendar, although she’d already lived through missing Thanksgiving, although Christmas carols played everywhere in Osaka all. the. time. since she’d arrived, she still couldn’t help feeling sad. 

Adventure, she reminded herself as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door. Trying new things. There would be other Christmases.  

The expat pubs in Osaka, of which there were very, very many, seemed to understand her melancholy, or at least found a way to profit off it. Every one of them offered “Christmas dinner:” a choice of roast turkey or beef with potatoes and vegetables, smothered in gravy and accompanied by a pint of Guinness. 

“I like a good roast dinner as much as anyone,” remarked Killian as they stood in a hugely crowded pub, looking for a seat and observing as those already seated ate their food, “But that is not a good roast dinner.” 

“It suits me, mate,” said Will. “I intend to get pissed tonight, all I need is somethin’ to cushion the alcohol.” 

“Well, I’m going to find a less… popular place to celebrate the Yuletide,” said Killian. “If anyone would care to join me?”

“I will.” Emma didn’t like the look of the roast meats or the thin gravy, plus it was too loud in the pub and far too hot. She felt claustrophobic and very un-Christmassy.

“And me.” Anna had been subdued all day, for the past few days actually, and the prospect of a Christmas dinner had cheered her almost back to her usual self. But now she looked down again. “Let’s get out of here.” 

The three of them headed out into the streets, still busy and bustling though it was nearly midnight, and decided to walk towards Shinsaibashi. 

“There must be someplace there that’s nicer than that bloody pub,” said Killian. “I don’t know why we go to that place so often, if I wanted a piss-up in a run-down local I’d’ve fucking stayed at home.” 

Everyone was grumpy tonight, thought Emma. They could all use some Christmas spirit. 

“We could always go to KFC,” she attempted to joke. “A student told me today that’s a Japanese Christmas tradition. A bucket of KFC and a strawberry cake.” 

“No,” said Killian firmly. “I want a decent meal. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.” 

“So have I,” Anna agreed. 

They pushed forward through the thickening crowds, but when they reached the entrance to the covered part of Shinsaibashi-suji, where the lights were so bright it almost rivalled daytime and where shops, restaurants, pachinko parlours, and karaoke bars were all jumbled together in a bright mess of noise and energy, Anna held back. 

“I don’t know if I’m really feeling this,” she said. 

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked her. “You seem down.” 

“Yeah, I just— I don’t want a lot of noise. Can we maybe try someplace else? What about down here?”

They turned down a quieter side street, still bright and bustling but far less crowded. After a few minutes Anna stopped. 

“How about this place?” she asked, indicating a red-fronted building with a dark-painted wooden door and a sign outside proclaiming it Osaka’s best steakhouse in almost correct English. 

“Charley Brown’s?” said Emma, reading the sign. “Yeah, okay. Fine with me.” 

Killian opened the door and they went in, indicated with hand gestures to the smiling and bowing hostess that they wanted a table for three, then followed her up the stairs to a small candlelit table in a quiet corner of the spacious room. 

“This is nice,” said Emma, determinedly cheerful. 

“Aye, it really is,” agreed Killian. His earlier mood seemed to have lifted, but Anna was still frowning. 

She hovered next to the table as Emma and Killian sat down. “I don’t think I can do this,” she said. 

“Do what?” said Emma, trying not to be annoyed. “I wish you’d tell us what’s wrong.”

“It’s— it’s Kristoff,” she said, looking sideways at Killian. “My ex. I— he— I talked to him last night and I’m just— I’m not feeling great.”  

“Do you want to talk about it?” offered Emma.

“No. Thanks. I think I just want to be alone.” She tried to smile, though the strain in her face was evident. “You guys stay though, please. Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Okay. See you.” Emma watched her go, then turned to Killian. “What was that about?”

He scratched behind his ear. “I think she’s just having some troubles with people from home,” he said. “She and her ex ended in a weird place.” 

Emma could tell that wasn’t the whole story but she wasn’t going to try to pry someone else’s secrets from Killian. He and Anna were close and had been friends before she’d met either of them, and it really wasn’t her business. 

Yet Anna’s departure left her and Killian alone together in an atmosphere that was undeniably and inescapably romantic. Their table was small and felt secluded in its little corner, lit with tea lights in decorative holders and by the soft glow of the shaded wall sconces above them. It was intimate and elegant, and the nicest restaurant Emma had ever been in. 

“Well,” said Killian brightly. “What looks good?”

The menu was extensive and a bit confusing, but Emma’s attention was caught by a small card tucked between the salt and pepper shakers on the table, advertising a Christmas meal that looked delicious, far better than what the pub had been offering. Five courses plus wine for 4,000 yen. It was expensive, but it was also Christmas, and Emma felt like she’d earned it. 

“I think I might just try this,” she said. 

Killian picked up the card and nodded. “Sounds great,” he agreed. “I’ll do the same.” 

The waiter appeared and they gave their order, and once he had taken it and bowed himself away, silence fell between Killian and Emma, alone with each other for the first time and for the first time feeling awkward. 

Emma was determined not to be. 

“So are you ever going to tell me the story of your notebook?” she asked him, a hint of challenge in her tone. 

“Do I look like Nicholas Sparks?” quipped Killian, and she chuckled politely but she knew deflection when she saw it, and she was not about to let it slide. 

“I have no idea,” she retorted, “But I suspect your notebook would be a heck of a lot more interesting than his.” 

“Not a Sparks fan then Swan?”

“Stop trying to change the subject.” 

Killian sighed, and rubbed behind his ear again. Emma made a mental note to play poker with him someday; with a tell that obvious he’d be an easy mark. 

“Well if you must know I was taking notes because… because I’m thinking I might write a book. Someday. And when I have ideas I think could possibly go in it, I write them down.” His ears had gone pink, and the tops of his cheeks. Emma could not have been more charmed. 

“Why would you feel like you needed to hide that?” she asked. “I think it’s amazing.” 

He shrugged. “It’s just theoretical at this point, I haven’t actually written anything. But I used to write short stories when I was younger and my brother always said—” he broke off. 

“What did he say?” she prompted.

“He said I had a gift.” Killian replied in a low voice. 

“Sounds like a good brother.” 

“He was.” 

“Was? What happened?” The words were out before she could think better of them, and she tensed, hoping she hadn’t pushed too far.

“He died.”  

She remembered what he’d said during their first meeting, on the subway. “Was that the funeral you wore the tie to?” she asked.  “The tie you threw away?”

He nodded, looking down at his hands where they rested on the table. “Yes.” 

“I’m so sorry, Killian.” 

“It was a long time ago.” He looked away again. 

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.” She knew this, of course. Firsthand.

“No.” 

She also knew how important it was to talk about things that hurt. “Will you tell me about him?”

Killian looked up at her and she sensed apprehension but also relief, that he actually badly wanted to talk about this with someone who would understand. That he was hoping she would understand.

He had no idea just how much she did understand. 

“Liam was my hero. That might sound foolish—” 

“It doesn’t.” 

“—but he was. He was eight years older than me but he always used to let me tag along with him and his friends. I didn’t realise what a big deal that was until I got older myself. In the summer he would take me to the library and help me find books to read and then sometimes we would get the train to Weymouth and go to the beach. He made me play rugby even though I do not have the build for it because he thought it would make me tougher than football would, and when our father went into drunken rages he would take the brunt of it to protect me.” 

These last words came out all in a rush and his expression was almost defiant, expecting pity or judgement. 

She offered neither, just took his hand and squeezed it hard. 

“How did he die?” she asked. “If you don’t mind telling me.” 

“I don’t like to talk about it, but… I think I’d like for you to know.” He took a deep breath and his fingers tightened on hers. “It was a car accident. Just a stupid, pointless accident, only I was driving. I was seventeen and practicing for my driving test, and I turned onto a busy road and some arsehole wasn’t watching where he was going and plowed into the passenger side, and killed my brother. Instantly. Just like that and he was gone. The police said there was nothing I did wrong, but I can’t help feeling like—” 

“Like you should have been able to do something to prevent it.” 

Relief flashed in his eyes, and gratitude. “Yeah.” 

“I get it. My parents died in a car accident too.”

Relief turned to empathy. “Oh, love.” 

“Yeah. I was twelve, and my brother Leo was two. So we have that in common too, that big gap between siblings. My dad was killed instantly, like your brother, but my mom died pulling me and Leo out of the wreckage.” She paused, blinking tears back, breathing deeply, pushing down the panic this memory still incited, even after more than a decade. “She pulled me out first, I was easier to reach, then told me to wait while she went back for Leo. She got him free but she had internal bleeding and strained herself too much.”

Her voice broke, and Killian held her hand even tighter. “Fucking hell,” he whispered. 

“Yeah.” She swallowed hard, focused on her breathing. “It was pretty awful. My mom— she put Leo in my arms and then she collapsed and never got up again, and I— I have spent the past eleven years thinking if only I had stayed with her maybe I could have saved them both.” Her confession came in a rush, as his had done. 

“Or maybe you’d have been killed too.” Killian’s voice was hoarse. “You were a child, Emma, there is nothing you could have done. 

“Maybe. As it was all I had was a few bruises and Leo barely a scratch.” 

“But that’s good, love. You had your brother, and he had you. I’m sure knowing that would have made your parents happy.” 

It was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her about the accident, much less someone who had lost his own brother so cruelly. Emma felt the tears she’d been fighting back spill over, and wiped her eyes with an embarrassed laugh. 

“So that’s why you don’t like wearing ties,” she tried to joke. “At least that mystery is solved.” 

“Aye. My father made me wear one to the funeral and cuffed me on the side of the head when I protested, said I was being disrespectful to Liam’s memory.” Fury flashed in his eyes, barely leashed, offering a glimpse of how terrifying he would be if he ever let it loose. Showing that his memories were as fresh as hers were. “Like he hadn’t spent Liam’s entire fucking life being disrespectful, like it’s so respectful to take out your drunken bitterness on your own bloody child.”

“So what did you do?”

“I put on the tie and I went to the funeral. Then when my brother was in the ground I burned the tie, and the suit, punched my father in his fucking face and left. I haven’t seen him since.” 

Emma could imagine him, young and lost and drowning in pain and fury. She wanted to hug him, but instead she gently rubbed her thumb across his fingers. “Where did you go?”

“I’ve always loved the sea so I went down to Weymouth, where I used to go to the beach with Liam. I went to the harbour there and found myself a job as a labourer on a fishing boat, backbreaking work but I was lucky to get it. I worked there for just over a year, until I had enough money saved to pay for university. What about you? What happened after your parents passed?”

“It was pretty confusing for a while. We stayed with my friend Ruby and her grandmother since my parents didn’t have any close family to take us in, but then the state wanted to put us into the foster system. They said they’d keep us together, but I didn’t trust them, so when the social worker came to talk to us I wouldn’t let her in. I held the door shut and then I kicked and scratched and bit her, and eventually she gave up and left. She was furious. She shouted at me that Leo could be adopted into a nice family and if I was good they’d take me too. She said I was going to ruin his life, but I knew my parents would have wanted him to grow up with his own family. Even if that was only me.” She gave a self-deprecating shrug. 

“Eventually my mother’s distant cousin, Ingrid, heard about what happened. She came and found us and took custody of us. Three years later she adopted us. She even moved to the little town where we lived so that we wouldn’t have to be separated from our friends and familiar surroundings.” She sniffed as tears prickled behind her eyes again. “I don’t know what we’d have done without her.”

Killian smiled, though he looked teary himself. “So a happy ending, then, of a sort.” 

“As happy as it could be I suppose. Leo’s thirteen now and he’s a normal, happy kid. He loves Ingrid and doesn’t remember our parents, which—” she paused and took a deep breath before speaking, words she had never uttered to another person, words she had barely even managed to think. But she’d already told him so much, what was one more painful revelation? She could analyse her seemingly irresistible urge to spill all her secrets to him sometime later. “—I almost envy him for that,” she whispered. “I miss them so much. Even after all this time. I cry every day on the anniversary of their deaths.” 

Killian’s hand shifted in hers, and she felt the soft brush of his thumb across her knuckles. “I cry on the anniversary of Liam’s,” he said, in a voice that held sadness and pain and profound empathy. He understood, of course. She’d known he would. 

The waiter arrived with their first courses, shattering the intimate mood, and abruptly they were self-conscious, pulling their hands apart and smiling with forced cheerfulness as plates were set before them. Emma could still feel the imprint of Killian’s fingers in hers as she picked up her fork. 

“This looks good!” she said brightly. 

“Aye. Far better than that slop from the pub.” 

They ate in silence for a minute and Emma, desperate for the ease of understanding between them not to grow strained searched for some topic of conversation less heavy than dead families. 

“So why did you—” she began.

“What brings you to—” started Killian, and they laughed. 

“I was just going to ask why you came to Japan,” said Emma. 

“Funny, that’s what I was going to ask you.” 

She grinned at him. “You first.” 

“Well it’s not that interesting a story, really. After uni I took an awful boring job, in public relations. I’ve no idea why I even took it, my degree is in Modern Languages, but they needed someone who spoke French so they offered it to me. The salary was better than any other offers I’d had and they said they were a ‘cool young’ firm and I wouldn’t have to wear a suit, so I thought why the fuck not for a year or two. But then before I knew it, it was five years later and I was bloody miserable. I hated every morning I had to wake up and go to work, but I stayed in the job because I didn’t really have any idea what else I even wanted to do. Then one day out of nowhere I ran into Graham in London. We’d been at uni together and hadn’t seen each other since, so we went for a drink to catch up and he told me he was there for an interview to teach in Japan. He made it sound like an amazing opportunity, said I should come too since they were still recruiting, and I had always wanted to go to Asia so I said I’d give it some thought. And then the next day my boss told me they were cutting the staff and offered me voluntary redundancy and I said hell yes, took the money, and before I was even out the door was on the phone with Graham for the details of that job.” 

“Wow, it’s lucky you ran into him.” 

“Indeed. We weren’t ever that close and I hadn’t spoken to him in years. It was just a weird coincidence that we happened to be in the same place at the same time. What?” he asked, seeing her face. 

“Nothing, really, it’s just I’m kinda here by weird coincidence too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I— I wanted to get away. From my life, and from my ex.” She glanced up at him, hoping he wouldn’t ask for details. She really didn’t want to talk about Neal, not with Killian. But he just nodded for her to continue. “So I just randomly googled ‘jobs in other countries’ and this came up. I’d never even considered going to Japan or even leaving the US, but it was like once the idea got into my head I couldn’t get rid of it. I felt like I had to go. Ruby thought I was nuts.” She laughed. “Maybe I was. But also, like, the interviews were being held in Boston, which is a three hour drive and a longer train ride and I wouldn’t normally have ben able to manage it, but the day they wanted to interview me I happened to have plans to be in Boston anyway, with Ruby actually. It was just all so easy, like it just fell into place. I don’t normally believe in signs, but that sure as hell felt like one.”

Killian shook his head, an odd, small smile on his face. 

“What?” she asked him. 

“I was just thinking of all the little things that had to come together in order for us to meet,” he said. “The odds against it were staggering.” 

“And yet here we are,” she said softly, matching his smile with her own. 

“Here we are,” he agreed. 

—

They left the restaurant feeling content, full of wine and good food and the excitement humming softly beneath their skin at this hazy, undefined, unspoken-but-still-very-real thing that was blossoming between them, the attraction and the understanding and the sense of kinship that was unlike anything either had experienced before. Killian held the door for her and then when they fell into step his hand brushed against hers and Emma thought the spark might actually set her on fire. She edged closer and let her knuckles brush his in a way that was unmistakably deliberate, then his fingertips were tracing across her palm and— 

“Oi, Jones! Emma!” 

Will’s voice rang out from across the street and Killian and Emma all but leapt apart. 

She didn’t know why, Emma thought crossly. They hadn’t been doing anything, yet the nothing they’d been doing was new and fragile and intensely personal, and she imagined Killian didn’t want their friends interfering in it any more than she did. 

She glanced at him and he shot her a wry grin, and they crossed the street to join the group. Will was with Graham and Smee and all three were very much the worse for alcohol. 

“We are goin’,” said Will, with the painstaking enunciation of the very intoxicated, “to sing karaoke. An’ you two,” he poked Killian’s chest with his finger. “Are comin’ along.”

“Mate—” began Killian, glancing again at Emma. 

“Come on!” Will grabbed Killian’s arm and took a step forward, stumbling over the curb into the street and almost sending both himself and Killian flying headfirst into the gutter. 

Killian steadied them both. “I’m not sure you’re in any state for karaoke, mate,” he said. “Maybe we should all just go home.” 

“The night is young!” declared Will. 

“It’s almost four a.m.” 

“And we don’t ‘ave to be at work until three p.m.!” 

Killian looked imploringly at Smee and Graham. 

“Killian’s right, Scarlet,” said Graham. “You’re plastered and the rest of us are knackered, let’s get a taxi and go home. We’ll do karaoke another time.” 

“Fine if you lot don’t wanna sing. But I am not goin’ home yet,” retorted Will, pulling his arm away from Killian and stalking off, as best he could stalk when he could barely keep his own feet under him. They watched him stagger for a minute, and finally Graham sighed. 

“I’ll go after him,” he said. “Get him home safe. You guys don’t have to wait.” 

“You sure?” said Smee. “I can go with—” 

“No, you get a taxi with Emma and Killian, you all live in the same direction so it makes sense.” 

Emma and Killian exchanged looks. It did make sense, but Smee lived at the same subway stop as Killian, which meant…

“Okay.” Smee grinned at Emma. “I’ll be h— happy to escort you home, my lady.” She felt Killian tense up beside her, and when she glanced at him his jaw was clenched tight. He caught her eye and shrugged. What could they do? Ditch Smee because they wanted to be alone in the taxi, maybe go back to one or the other’s apartment together? 

Was that what they wanted? 

It was definitely what Emma wanted, and she thought Killian did too, but they could hardly discuss that here. 

Graham said goodbye and hurried after Will, chasing him deeper into the noise and crowds of Shinsaibashi, while Emma, Killian, and Smee turned in the other direction and headed for the taxi ranks on the quieter street of Midosuji. 

“Imazato chikatetsu eki, kudasai,” said Emma to the driver as she got into the taxi between Smee and Killian. Her stop was closest.  

“Imazato, hai!” he replied, and swerved the taxi in a sharp u-turn out into the street, tilting Emma almost into Killian’s lap. She braced herself against him and his hand came to rest on her knee, and when the taxi evened out along the wide avenue he didn’t move it. 

Emma shifted, as subtly as she could, leaning into Killian’s side and pressing her leg against his. She could tell he was looking at her but she didn’t turn her head, didn’t dare risk seeing his face. He moved his fingers against her knee, almost imperceptibly, and when she merely pressed her leg harder against his he slid his hand slowly up her thigh, just to the middle of it. Casually, she let her hand come to rest next to his, looping their little fingers together. She heard him exhale slowly, as if trying to control his breathing, and he shifted himself, pressing his body all along the length of hers and twining their fingers more tightly together. Emma glanced over at Smee, but he was leaning his head against the window, oblivious. 

All too soon they arrived at Imazato. Killian got out of the taxi to let Emma out. As she brushed past him he caught her waist and gave it a light squeeze. She looked up at his eyes, so blue in the bright lights from the subway station, brimming with emotions that made her heart race. Another time, his eyes said, and she nodded. 

Emma ran across the street to her building and up the stairs two at a time, all five flights of them. She was feeling exhilarated and jumpy and humming with energy. She flung open the apartment door and kicked off her shoes, almost dancing into the living room. 

“Do you mind,” said Aurora’s voice from the sofa. “We are watching a movie.” 

“Oh.” Emma turned to see Aurora and Mulan sprawled out with a laptop on the table in front of them, sharing a set of headphones. “Sorry. I thought you guys would be at work.” 

“We did a half day today,” said Mulan. 

“We finished about an hour ago,” added Aurora. “You’re back really late.” 

“Oh, I just went out to dinner with a friend. For Christmas. Um, Merry Christmas, by the way.” 

“About that,” said Aurora. “Just so you know, next week we’re having a party. For the New Year. With some friends from our shift. Just so you can make your own plans.” 

Mulan shot her an apologetic look, but Emma just shrugged. She was used to Aurora’s passive aggression by now. “That’s fine,” she said. “I’m, um, gonna go to bed now. See you guys later.” She could hear Aurora whispering as she slid her bedroom’s thin doors shut but she tuned it out. 

Her mind and heart were still racing as she got into her pajamas and flopped down on her futon. Just one more week, she thought, four more days of work and then they had nine days off for the New Year. Nine days of vacation, surely, surely she and Killian could find some time to be alone with each other again. 

She closed her eyes with a smile and fell asleep thinking about him. 

— 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 — 🇯🇵 

The following week passed much as the ones before it had. She saw Killian at work and he still flirted and shared his lunch with her and outwardly everything was almost the same. And yet… whenever the group was together they made sure to stand next to each other, closer than they would have stood before. They sat closer too, at lunch, and shared little private smiles, and now and then when she was laughing or talking animatedly she looked up to catch him watching her with an intensity that made her heart pound.

After their shift on December 29th the group headed out, back to Shinsaibashi to a new bar Will wanted to try. 

“I hear they make some fuckin’ killer drinks, mates,” he said. “There’s this blue shite, right, that has five different shots of liquor.” 

“Five, really?” said Graham. “You’d be dead.” 

“Nah, mate, not after one. It’d take at least three to end me,” chortled Will. 

He held the door open for them with a flourish, and rubbed his hands together as it closed behind him. The room was brightly lit, done in shades of electric blue and glaring white and the bar was made of glass and decorated to look like a fish tank. Emma frowned at it, watching carefully until she was certain that the realistic-looking fish were not actually swimming. 

“I think they’re just… part of the glass?” said Anna. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right. Weird.” 

The bar’s glass top was scattered with laminated menus, featuring pictures of vibrantly hued drinks. 

“That’s it!” crowed Will, pointing at a drink the same blue shade as the neon sign above the bar. “That’s the one. I’ll ‘ave one a those, kudasai.” He pointed at the menu and the bartender nodded. 

“Make it six,” said Will, holding up his left hand with the five fingers splayed wide and his right index finger held vertically across its palm. “My treat, mates.” 

“Roku, hai,” acknowledged the bartender. 

The bar was staffed by three terrifyingly efficient men, and their drinks arrived quickly. Emma took a sip of hers and grimaced. It was good, but it was strong. 

“What the hell is in this?” she demanded. 

“Not sure,” said Will. “I think one is absinthe.” 

“Isn’t that illegal?” queried Anna.

“Maybe not in Japan,” suggested Graham. 

“Absinthe is green,” Killian informed them, holding his drink up to the light. “Famously so. I don’t think there’s anything green in here, this is likely the bluest substance known to man.” 

They all laughed and kept sipping, and the more they sipped the louder their laughter grew until the blue beverages were all consumed and Will was asking the bartender for more. 

“I don’ think I could drink more,” said Emma, leaning heavily against Killian as the room spun gently around her, not even caring about the sharp look Anna shot her as she clutched the sleeve of his suit jacket. She liked Anna, very much, and whenever they were alone the other woman was friendliness itself but as far as very-pleasantly-buzzed Emma was concerned, she needed either to say she wanted Killian or not say it, but all these little wordless glares whenever Emma was close to him were starting to get tiresome. 

Especially as Emma had every intention of getting much closer to him before the night was done. 

Will was arguing with the bartender who refused to make them more blue drinks, offering them every other colour on the menu, and Graham was trying to intervene. Smee was watching them with his habitual slightly vague expression and Anna was pretending to watch while actually keeping her eyes on Emma as she laid her head on Killian’s shoulder and his arm snuck around her waist. 

“All right, Swan?” he murmured. 

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I feel good.” 

It was one of the nicest buzzes she’d ever had, in fact. She felt light and loose and carefree, but not confused or out of control. Like she was floating on a marshmallow or rolling on a cloud of cotton candy. 

She giggled, which was not like her, nor was the whimsy. But maybe both were what she needed tonight, she thought. 

Will clapped his hands triumphantly as he won his argument with the bartender, who agreed to make them one more blue drink. 

“Have at it, lads,” Will said, offering the drink around the group. Emma took a large swig then passed it to Killian, who did the same. She swayed as the added alcohol hit her, and now the cotton candy was in her brain, clouding her thoughts and sweetening them. She tugged on the lapels of Killian’s jacket. 

“Let’s go somewhere,” she said, hoping the words didn’t sound as slurred as they did in her head. 

He looked down at her, his eyes glassy but intensely focused. 

“Where?” he asked.  

“Somewhere. Anywhere. Just— take me somewhere.” 

His eyes widened as he caught her meaning, then dropped to her lips and he swallowed hard. She swayed towards him but the room was far too bright and too full of their friends for what they both wanted. 

He cleared his throat. “Are you sure, love?” he asked. “We’ve had a lot to drink—” 

“I’m sure.” 

He nodded, eyes still on her lips. “Yours?”

Emma struggled to think. Did Mulan and Aurora still work tonight, or— but it really didn’t matter because she wasn’t about to bring Killian to her place if there was any chance of Aurora being present. “No, my roommates are home,” she said.  

“Is that a problem?”

“We have shoji doors, they are literally made of paper.” 

“Ah. Well mine has normal doors but my flatmate is having a party.” 

Emma wanted to snarl in frustration. How did other people do this when there was no privacy in this country?

Then she remembered how, from the whispers of other teachers and the blasé tales of her students. 

“What about a love hotel?”

Killian’s eyes finally left her lips and he stared at her. “Really?”

“Oh, come on, like you haven’t wondered what they were like,” she teased. 

“I have definitely wondered, but—” 

“There’s one just down the street isn’t there?” 

“Emma, let’s think about this.” 

“I don’t want to think.” She clutched his lapels again, pressing her body as close to his as it could get, close enough that their breaths mingled, that she could feel the catch in his against her cheek. So close that half an inch was all that stood between them and the kiss they had both been craving for a week. For longer. 

Well, that half inch and four very rowdy drunken English teachers and a glaringly bright Japanese bar. 

“I just want to be alone with you,” whispered Emma. “Just you and me somewhere with a door that locks and where no one cares what we do.” She released him abruptly and stepped back, towards the door, grabbing his hand from around her waist and giving it a tug. “I don’t care if it’s tacky, that’ll be part of the fun. C’mon. I’ll pay.” 

“You absolutely will not,” said Killian, and she knew she had him. He glanced around them and seeing no one was looking wrapped his arm around her waist again and steered her to the door. “Let’s go.” 

They stumbled out into the bustling night, just drunk enough to make the flashing neon seem softly romantic. Killian held her close against his side, his arm firm around her waist, and she slid her hand into the back pocket of his trousers. A wild giggle rose in her throat as she realised they must look like the sort of couple people shouted at to get a room. 

And that was exactly what they were going to do. 

The lobby of the love hotel was surprisingly elegant, with soft lighting and dark-wood panelling along the clean lines and sharp angles of the room. A smiling woman stood behind a large wooden desk in the far corner. She said something in rapid Japanese and Emma struggled to pick out any of the words she knew. 

Killian replied, also in Japanese. 

What the fuck, thought Emma, gaping at him, wondering if she were drunker than she’d thought. 

He shot her a slightly sheepish look as the woman began to tap on her computer. “I’ve been taking lessons,” he said. 

So had Emma, but she wasn’t anywhere near that good. 

Though her body was still thrumming with excitement she began to feel a bit awkward as Killian and the still-smiling woman arranged their room. There was only one reason people went to love hotels, the clue was quite literally in the name, and despite the fact that this was the woman’s job it felt weird to think that she knew what Emma and Killian were there to do. 

Killian caught the look on her face and squeezed her hand. “You can back out any time, love,” he said. “No hard feelings.” 

She shook her head, and returned his squeeze. “No. I want to do this.” 

He smiled and the look in his eyes made her belly quiver. 

The smiling woman handed Killian a key and a pamphlet and pointed them in the direction of the elevator with an elegant hand wave and a series of bows. 

“Come on, then, Swan,” he said, flipping through the pamphlet. “We’re on the twelfth floor.” 

“There are twelve floors to this place?”

“More, even, I think.”

They got in the elevator, which was as dimly lit as the lobby. The darkness made it easier to slide close to him again and press her cheek against his chest as he kissed her hair. 

She supposed that was the point. 

After the tasteful elegance of the hotel’s entrance and elevator, the sight of their room had them stopping dead in the doorway, gaping in shock. This, thought Emma. This is what I was expecting. The commitment to the theme was impressive. 

The room was large, with gently curving walls and tall, blacked-out windows, but what really drew the eye were the hearts. Heart shaped pillows of varying sizes and hues of pink and red cluttered the heart-shaped bed with its heart shaped headboard, over which hung a heart-shaped mirror framed in sparkly red hearts. The walls were striped with lines of fuchsia hearts and in the corner sat a small table, square but lacquered in black with bright red hearts and accompanied by two matching chairs, with heart-shaped backs. 

Emma tried to swallow her hysterical giggles but then she caught Killian’s eye. He was biting the inside of his cheek and when she widened her eyes at him they both burst into laughter. 

“This is brilliant,” said Killian, after they had caught their breath again. “It’s everything I hoped it would be.” 

“Exactly what I was thinking,” she agreed, and they both knew they weren’t just talking about the room. 

Their laughter had dissipated the awkwardness leaving only the insistent pull of sexual tension, and when Emma hooked her fingers under the waistband of his trousers and pulled him closer she could feel the pounding of his heart and the heat of his gaze burning into her as she slid her hand into his hair. 

“I’m feeling more sober now,” she whispered. 

“Is that bad?”

“Exactly the opposite. I want to remember this.” 

“So do I.” 

She pulled his mouth down to hers and stood on her toes to meet it halfway as his arms wrapped tightly around her. Their lips met softly at first and then harder, and Emma’s head began to spin again as she opened her mouth and his tongue stroked hers, soft and wet and warm and tasting faintly of alcohol. He kissed her firmly and with obvious skill but let her take the lead, responding to her cues and adapting to her pace, and for the first time ever she felt like kissing was something being done with her rather than to her, and for Emma this was a revelation. 

Soon she was breathless and barely able to stay standing on her shaky legs. She leaned against Killian, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her just off her feet and walked them over to the bed, lowering her gently onto the pile of heart pillows and following her down without breaking their kiss. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly, letting his fingertips trail along each newly revealed inch of skin until every last button was undone and she practically ripped the shirt away, desperate for more of his hands on her.   

They pulled apart just long enough for her to yank off her bra and toss it away and for him to remove his own shirt, heedless of its buttons, and when they came back together she moaned at the rough sensation of his chest hair against her nipples. It felt amazing, his skin against hers felt amazing, and the hard press of his cock between her legs made her heart race and her fingers tremble in anticipation. She bucked her hips against him and he groaned into her mouth. 

He tugged at the waistband of her trousers. “Get these off,” he growled, as with his other hand he began to undo his belt. Emma shimmied out of her pants and underwear, too eager to feel all of him against her to be anything like self-conscious. When they were both naked he paused, taking her in, then reached out a trembling hand to trace the contours of her breast and waist and hip with the tips of his fingers. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, almost in a whisper. “I can’t believe—” 

“What?” she whispered back. 

“I can’t believe I’m here with you. This is like a dream.” 

She knew exactly how he felt. 

“You’re beautiful too,” she said, trailing her own fingertips over his chest and down his abs, stopping just shy of his cock. He caught his breath, the blue of his eyes almost lost to black, but managed a smirk. 

“Devilishly handsome, I think you’ll find, Swan.” 

She laughed. “That too.” 

He pulled her back into his arms, running his hand down her back to press her as close as he could, curving it around her ass to pull her hips into his. She gasped, rocking against the hard swell of cock, desperate to feel it inside her, when she was struck by a terrible thought. “Wait,” she panted, pushing against his shoulders. “Do you have a condom?”

Killian pulled back, panting himself. “No. But the love hotel provides.” He leaned across her and pressed a button on the side of the headboard. A small drawer popped open, from which he withdrew a strip of six condoms, smirking at her as he brandished them.

“Ambitious,” remarked Emma. 

“Aye, perhaps, but I do love a challenge.” 

He waggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed. “How did you know those were there?”

“It’s in the brochure.” 

“When did you—” she began, but he cut her off with his mouth on hers and his hand sliding up the inside of her thigh, making her gasp against his lips. 

“Hush, now, love, remember we have six condoms to use before two o’clock this afternoon, we need to stay focused.” 

Her chuckle became a strangled moan as his fingers stroked through her slick flesh, finding her clit with impressive speed and accuracy. He pressed it lightly with his thumb and then began to rub gentle circles around it. 

“Oh my God,” she gasped, half expecting him to reply with some quip about how just Killian would do, but he was too intent on watching her reactions to his touch. She could almost see him cataloguing what she liked, thinking vaguely that she should feel uncomfortable being the centre of such focused attention, but then he increased the pressure of his thumb and slipped a finger inside her and she forgot to think at all. 

She arched her back, pressing her core against his hand and her head back against the pillows as her hands clutched at them. She wanted to watch him as he watched her; the intensity of his focus and determination to please her turned her on as much as anything about him did, but her eyes refused to stay open, fluttering closed as the heady sensations built and intensified and then her orgasm burst over her and she actually screamed. 

Killian continued to stroke her until she opened her eyes then withdrew his hand, resting it on her hip as he propped his head on the other one, watching her with an expression that managed to be both soft and smug. 

“You,” she panted, “are looking awfully pleased with yourself.”

His smirk deepened. “Well, darling, I did just make you scream.”

She gave his shoulder a sharp shove, toppling him onto his back and quickly swinging her leg over to straddle him. “Let’s see who screams next,” she said. 

He cupped her breast, thumbnail flicking across her nipple and she tried to stifle her gasp, without success. He licked his lower lip, slowly. “You’re on, love,” he growled.  

Damn it, thought Emma, she was fully turned on again, ready to go. 

“Where’s the damn condoms?” she snarled, snatching them from his hand when he held them up. Ripping the first one from its packet she quickly rolled it down his length, following it with her body as he pulled her close to take her nipple in his mouth. 

“Fuck,” she moaned as twin bolts of pleasure shot through her from her breast and her core. “Fuck.” 

“That’s the idea,” murmured Killian against her skin. He gave her ass a light slap. “Get on with it, then. I thought you were going to make me scream.” 

Emma resisted the urge to smack him, instead lifting her hips and slamming them down, taking him deep, triumphant when he groaned and the hand on her ass gripped her hard. She braced her hands on either side of his head and concentrated on finding a rhythm, taking him as deep as she could and watching him as closely as he had her, trying to memorise what he liked best. 

There seemed to be nothing he didn’t like, and soon he was thrusting up to meet her, fingers digging bruises into her flesh as she leaned on one hand and dragged her fingernails down his chest. When she flicked his nipple as he had done hers, he made a noise she’d never heard before and flipped them over, lifting her knee up to to her chest and plunging back into her deeper than before. 

Emma no longer cared about the noises she herself was making; she was lost to everything but him, to the delicious friction of his cock inside her and his chest hair against her nipples, the softness of his lips on her neck. She’d had no idea sex could feel like this, like she was coming apart but also more whole than she’d ever been, her body incandescent with sensations that were almost more than she could bear. When she came it caught her by surprise, bursting from her core and flooding her with pleasure to the very tips of her fingers and toes. She gripped Killian’s forearm, nails digging into his skin as she clenched around him and he moaned her name as he came.

He collapsed and tried to roll away but she held on, wanting his weight on her for a few moments longer. He let his head fall against her neck and she could feel his breath ruffling the fine hairs on her nape as she sank her fingers into his own hair, damp with sweat, and as her senses slowly returned she tried not to worry about how not awkward this whole thing felt. 

Even with Neal she’d always been awkward after sex, and she’d known him for years before sleeping with him. The whole business of being naked with someone once the urge to fuck had gone made her feel far too vulnerable, to say nothing of the messy cleanup and the general damp stickiness of it all. She generally escaped as quickly as she could and went to take a shower. 

But with Killian not only didn’t she want to run she actually wanted to cuddle. His hand was moving up and down her hip in a touch more soothing than sensual, in time with her fingers sifting through his silky hair and it was… nice. Comfortable and sweet and lovely and she had no idea why this didn’t scare her. 

Eventually he turned his head and nuzzled her cheek, kissing it lightly before pulling out of her, careful not to lose the condom. He went to dispose of it and she stretched luxuriantly, ogling his ass as he went. 

“I could really use a shower,” she remarked. 

“There’s a tub in here,” Killian called from the bathroom. “A big one.” 

He poked his head out of the doorway, his expression at once challenging and shyly hopeful. “We could both fit,” he said. 

What the hell, thought Emma. She’d already blown up all her old rules and boundaries with him, and she wasn’t about to run off until they’d had at least one more round, so why not take a bath together? She pictured him flushed and damp and looking at her in that way he had that made her feel cherished. 

“Is it heart shaped?” she joked. 

He laughed. “No. A missed opportunity there, really.” 

“Oh well. Let’s use it anyway.” 

His face lit up before disappearing back around the doorframe, and a moment later she heard the sound of water running. 

“There are some bubbles though,” he called out. “In a heart shaped bottle.” 

“Good enough,” laughed Emma. “Put ‘em in!”

She rolled off the bed and sauntered into the bathroom. Maybe it was the residual effect of the blue drink, maybe the fact that she was still buzzing from the best sex of her life, or maybe it was just the way Killian looked at her, but Emma was feeling bold and sexy, and when she appeared in the bathroom doorway and his eyes darkened as they travelled slowly down her naked form that feeling only intensified. 

“You’re stunning,” he said. 

She grinned. “So are you. Are we gonna do this again?”

“I know by ‘this’ you mean ‘trade compliments,’ but I’m going to ignore that and say hell yes we are but let’s have a bath first.” 

“Good call,” she said, and stepped into the warm water. The bubbles smelled like roses and she sighed in bliss, and when Killian got in behind her and pulled her against him she snuggled into him with a sigh of a different sort, feeling happier than she could remember being since that dark, tragic night when she was twelve years old. 

NOTES: For anyone unfamiliar with love hotels, they are basically just hotels that are designed to be places for people to go to have sex. They are not specifically for prostitution, though they can be used that way, but more for couples who just need some privacy in a very densely populated country with thin walls. In many traditional Japanese homes the sleeping space and the living space is the same space, and people just roll up their futons and put them in closets during the day, plus extended families often live together, so you can imagine it's hard even for married couples to find any space to be alone. They're not all heart-themed, but many have other themes like anime or S&M, and increasingly they are getting rid of the themes entirely. 

You can read more here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_hotel 

[nine-butterflies]

Any captain swan fanfiction recommendations? I'm craving a good read and can't find anything.

[spartanguard]

ALL THE FREAKING SWOON in this chapter!!!! Yesssssssssss

And then all the UM WHAT. WHAT NOW?!?!???

All Was Golden in the Sky (16/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—

Rating: Mature AN: We earn our mature here. I wrote this while people installed central air in my apartment and it is as close to smut as you’re going to get out of me. Plus some feelings. If you’re clicking on this and reading all these words, I think it is very nice. Also thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke​ @distant-rose​ and @bmbbcs4evr​ for being fantastic. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam || 

“Gods, that’s stupid.”

The laugh he lets out tickles the back of her neck, making Emma shiver despite the small mountain of blankets she’s cocooned under and the arm around her waist tightens just a bit. They must have drifted at some point in the middle of the night, her back against his chest and it’s left them in the very pleasant position they’re in now – Killian’s lips ghosting over her skin and his fingers trailing over her thigh and Emma’s inhale sort of stutters its way into her lungs.

It is, as announced, stupid. 

And wonderful. 

And some kind of descriptor regarding the temperature. That doesn’t have anything to do with the blankets, but everything to do with his arm and his lips and…him. 

Full stop. 

She opens her eyes. 

There’s light everywhere, rays of sun peeking through half-closed blinds and casting shadows across the few inches of floor that aren’t still covered by dirty laundry. And, for the first time in quite some time, the shadows don’t freak her out. They’re…comforting or something, like it’s proof that the sun is there and today is possible and Emma’s teeth find her lower lip. 

Keep reading

[snowbellewells]

CS Heatwave Fic: “Melting for You”

This fic is meant to join the collection of fics prompted by the heatwave temperatures these last couple weeks. I’m no great pro with the steamy/smutty scenes, but this gets fairly close towards the end - and tosses some hints toward that line in the middle as well. Is there an almost-M (or T+) type rating?  Anyway, this is post season six timeframe - divergent, but not necessarily AU. There’s no reason it couldn’t have happened (if Emma and Killian were given two seconds of peace and privacy once they were married! ;p)  Hope you enjoy, and I’d love to hear what you think!

Also, thanks a million to @zaharadessert and @winterbythesea for offering some feedback and suggestions on titles - and commiserating with me on how hard choosing a title can be! And thanks to the lovely fandom friends on the @captainswanmoviemarathon Discord who came up with the heatwave fics idea in the first place!

Can also be found on AO3

“Melting for You”

by: @snowbellewells

Even indoors the air was heavy and oppressive - especially for June - and Emma Swan gave herself a mental pat on the back for even being out of her recliner nearest the air conditioning vent in the old, high-ceiling house that could be expensive to sufficiently cool. She tended to covet a day like this - off from the station, Henry out with friends, no one needing anything from her, and a backlog of her favorite crime procedurals ready in her streaming queue - chuckling to herself about deserving some sort of Savior Above and Beyond medal for being in the kitchen tackling a sink of dirty dishes.

Normally, she’d just put them in the dishwasher, but the last clean load had never been taken back out and put away - one of Henry’s designated jobs - and her husband, loving and fond of her son as he was, was still a captain through and through, determined for each member of his crew to pull their weight. Emma, on the other hand, while not as worried about the degree of neatness Killian would prefer, was just stubborn enough not to do her kid’s chores for him. Henry had been busy lately; finals, college applications and other genuine responsibilities taking up the bulk of his time, but she trusted him to get to it when he could. Though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, the real reason she didn’t put the clean dishes away was because she didn’t understand Killian’s precise method for storing all the various pots, pans, containers, and baking sheets; inevitably, when she tried to unload the dishwasher alone, she ended up with numerous things she couldn’t find a place for strewn across the kitchen’s center island and more of a mess than she’d started with.

It just wasn’t worth the hassle.

So, here she stood, sweating over a sink full of hot, soapy water, feeling loose tendrils of hair begin to curl around her face in the humidity, just trying to make sure they had enough clean spoons and to-go mugs for their coffee the next morning and cursing the 90 degree heat and the ceiling fan not doing an adequate job of getting the cooler air to her as her shirt began to feel stuck to her skin between her shoulder blades.

At least she had a good view. 

Emma smirked to herself, eyes lighting up once again as she refocused from the charred bits of pizza crust she’d slightly burnt onto a pan and back out the window over the sink. She wasn’t sure how her husband could stand it outside, and he’d been at it for at least a couple hours at this point, but as she took in the scene before her, Emma couldn’t help thinking that at this moment, his discomfort was a cross she was willing to bear.

Standing up straighter, running her forearm across her face, she dazedly allowed her hands to drip across the counter as she studied him more closely, almost forgetting where she was. Killian was wearing dark, stained denim jeans he often used when out of doors and not on his ship, along with a thin, gray T-shirt, stretched and faded with holes in places, but more than serviceable for working around the house and yard. She could see the muscles in his back and shoulders straining and bunching through the nearly threadbare material easily, and hardly realized she’d unconsciously licked her lips at the decadent sight.

As she continued to shamelessly spy on her fine pirate, Killian stretched his arms up overhead, clearly working out some of the kinks from his exertions, then to her eternal delight, raised the hem of his T-shirt to mop sweat from his brow. She could see a band of tanned, flushed skin on his lower back, unknowingly tantalizing her as she stared, unable to blink or look away. Then, as if that hadn’t been enough, he slowly peeled the taut fabric up his torso and off over his head before tossing it to the side.

She knew her breath went a bit shallow at the sight of his whole back bared to her while Killian stood for several long moments catching his breath. At this point, her sudsy hands were clutching the edge of the sink while her knees went watery at the show he was putting on inadvertently. The expanse of his skin was marred in places by lines almost white from the time gone by since they had been inflicted, and high on his left shoulder a compass sat, bearing the name ‘Liam’ along its edge, while the dark tentacles of a kraken curled surreptitiously along his rib cage on his right side. The dark and light took not one iota from his swarthy perfection though, not to her eyes. In fact, if she had been overwarm before, she was burning up now; the sight of his whole torso practically glistening in the bright afternoon sun making her weak. She was seized with the almost uncontrollable desire to go out there and started licking the salty moisture from his skin with her tongue.

If she didn’t know better, she would think he was purposely trying to tempt her. 

Wait… did she know better? Emma paused, tilted her head to one side in thought. She’d told him when he’d gone outside that she was kicking back to watch some tv. But Killian could be scarily prescient of everyone around him, alert without even trying. Did he know she was watching; and, if so, was he teasing her?

Eyes narrowing, she thought for a second, feeling more than a bit devious as she considered her rapscallion husband and just what mischief he might have on his mind. She could almost picture him scoffing about getting her riled up; his brow arched just so, tongue poking against the inside of his lower lip, practically leering at her, knowing she couldn’t resist him at the best of times, and absolutely using it to his advantage. What she needed, Emma decided, a twinkle coming into her eye as the perfect plan of attack took shape in her mind, was to get him back, while appearing completely innocent. Get him flustered and as hot and bothered as he was making her. Turning off the tap and quickly drying her hands on a towel nearby, she grabbed a large glass from the cabinet to her left, then opened the freezer for ice - and her chosen secret weapon.

Strolling outside, Emma tried her best to school her expression, knowing a twitch of mischievous humor or devilish twinkle would give her away. Her pirate still read her like a book - knew her every feature more minutely than anyone else had ever bothered to try - even more so after years together. He’d catch any slip and be on the alert.

Killian turned to look at her, just as she drew up beside him. Reaching out to trail the hand holding an ice cold glass of water down his damp, overheated bicep, she fought to hold in the smirk as her husband let his head fall backwards, nearly growling in pleasure. The unrelenting heat had the glass already covered in condensation, and the warmth radiating from Killian as well after working so long in the sun, meant the cool moisture had to feel heavenly.

Eyeing her with both adoration and curiosity, her captain made Emma’s own inner thermostat raise a tick as well when he licked the perspiration from his upper lip. “May I assume that’s for me, Love?”

“Yep,” she replied, letting the ‘p’ pop distinctly, just as he often did when alluring her with his speech. “I thought it was time to bring you some water. Can’t have my True Love getting dehydrated, after all.”

He raised a brow, as if wondering why she seemed so enthusiastic, but he took the glass from her eagerly, seemingly deciding just to accept the gesture with thanks. Of course, as his Adam's apple bobbed with his greedy swallows of the cool, refreshing liquid, it was Emma who found her throat working desperately to gain more air.

For a second, she almost forgot her plan in the wake of the tantalizing distraction he made, before she regained focus and hurried to unwrap what she held in her other hand.

While Killian’s eyes were still closed savoring the last of his drink, Emma quickly stuffed the wrapper of an ice cream bar in her cutoff jean pockets and began to lick the chocolate coating, enjoying the sweet taste, but also waiting for the moment she would feel the sizzle of his eyes on her once more.

“Here you go, Love,” Killian’s voice spoke up as she felt him turn toward her, just as she enveloped the whole tip of the ice cream bar between her lips. “That truly hit the sp - “

His words died on his tongue as he got an eyeful of what she was doing, though Emma avoided looking back just yet, knowing the glee she was feeling would give her away. ‘Gotcha, Pirate!’ she couldn’t help gloating in her mind.

Humming slightly as if she was only focused on how delicious her frozen treat tasted, Emma was inwardly high fiving herself after shooting a quick sidelong glance at her husband to see him looking as though he had swallowed his own tongue. The empty glass he’d moved to hand back to her fell to the ground from his suddenly lax fingers, and when she heard him speak again, his words were a hoarse whisper. “Gods above, Swan, are you trying to kill me?”

“Of course not,” she chirped happily, winking at him with what she hoped was breezy nonchalance. “Just enjoying some refreshment myself.” She then popped the treat back into her mouth, pointedly hollowing her cheeks a bit, then pulling it back out while letting her tongue trail along the rapidly melting chocolate coating.

‘And now the final touch,’ she thought, turning her head back toward the porch and deliberately putting more swing in her hips than normal. “Bring that glass with you when you come back in, okay Babe?” she tossed over her shoulder, with one brief backward glance that she hoped managed to be sultry.

Congratulating herself, even as just the short amount of time she’d been outside was beginning to make her sweat too and the vanilla insides of her ice cream began to drip down her hand, Emma had nearly reached the outdoor water spigot and attached hose by the porch steps, which seemed a good place to finish her dessert and wash off the stickiness, when she heard heavy steps coming up behind her rapidly. ‘Right on cue,’ her mind practically crowed.

In the next moment, Killian’s strong, muscled arm snaked around her stomach and jerked her back firmly against the front of his body. Holding her tightly, his teeth nipped her earlobe before he purred a seductive warning against her neck. “It’s cruel to tease a man like that, Minx - not if you don’t intend to share a taste.”

Impishly, Emma held up the rapidly shrinking bit of ice cream left on the stick, as if in offering. However, when he dove in to swipe his tongue up the side of her hand and engulf both the melting treat and the tips of her fingers in the warm, wet cavern of his mouth, she willingly let go. His eyes were pure blue flames that wouldn’t allow her to blink, turning her bones and sinew to liquid more than the heat outside could have ever managed.

Emma was leaning into him breathlessly, mind going blank at the way he pulled his lips back off her fingers, laving her skin playfully as he leaned away, the self-satisfied gleam in his eyes along with the heat telling her all too well that he knew what he was doing. Winking devilishly, he stepped away slightly, making her nearly stumble as her body strained to follow, a soft whine leaving her throat completely against her will. 

“Hmm…” he purred, baiting her now, sensing victory no doubt. “Just as I thought - delicious.”

Emma’s misfiring synapses crackled back to life as he stood there, just out of reach, clearly waiting for his wife’s next move, and almost certainly counting on her being unable to resist.

Her chest heaved, trying to get a full breath and bring herself under control. She’d had the upper hand! She was so sure she’d have him begging - just this once. But she was flushed and sweating every bit as much as Killian now. That sinful way he was tracing her bare legs with his gaze, and the feel of his mouth on her, however briefly, had been all it had taken to send her temperature soaring beyond all reason.

“You don’t play fair, Captain,” she chided, her voice low and her own teasing smile finally returning to her as it just tilted the corner of her lips.

Killian’s dark brow arched devastatingly in challenge, not about to be outdone. “Oh, and I suppose you think waltzing out here in those shorts that barely cover your knickers and shamelessly teasing me was fair play?”

There was no good comeback, and Emma knew it. She’d been messing with him from the start, and neither of them had any doubts on that score. However, it was just then she remembered the hose and spigot right behind her. Using an innocent shrug of her shoulders and a toss of her blond hair she knew could often distract him - pirate indeed, her golden hair had always drawn his touch, he’d been brushing it over her shoulder since they had first climbed the beanstalk together - she managed to move back enough to reach behind her and turn on the water without him catching onto her actions. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” she sniffed, feigning insult. “I only brought you a cold drink. You looked like you needed…” she fumbled to grasp the hose quickly and pull it up into her hands “...to cool off!”

Without further warning, she pointed the nozzle at him, squeezed the handle and let fly, startling him with a blast of water right to the chest. Luckily, she’d managed to crank up the power enough to have a steady stream leaving the hose at full blast, and they kept it coiled in the shade of the porch, so she knew the spray rapidly soaking her husband was as ice cold as the sun beating down on them from above was burning hot.

Spluttering and yelping at the sudden, frigid onslaught, Killian’s pleased smirk dissolved as he threw up both arms in a helpless attempt to block the spray. She couldn’t help throwing her head back with a triumphant laugh and an emphatic “Gotcha!” escaping her lips. No part of her husband was getting out of this unscathed, she decided, aiming to soak him from head to toe while she had the upper hand. 

Unfortunately for her, the victory was short-lived. Adaptable and quick-thinking as ever, Killian had steeled himself against the cold blast and was inching closer amidst laughter of his own and short exclamations at the bursts of chilled water hitting him.

Emma was about to relent in truth, the sight of Killian’s streams of eater running down his arms and sides and droplets clinging to his trim, well-defined chest and the enticing covering of matted dark hair across his taut chest muscles, was more than enough prize for her efforts. The handle actually faltered in her grip for a moment as her mouth fell open with her gawking.

 It was all the opening her pirate needed. 

Killian bounded forward, closing the slight distance left between them and deftly plucking the hose from her grip. The squelch of his feet on the wet grass and the slap of soaked denim against his legs were Emma’s only other warnings before the sharp, freezing spray was turned on her full blast in retaliation.

“Ahhh! Killian!” she screeched helplessly, the shock of the cold making her gasp, despite knowing she wasn’t going to get any more mercy than she herself had been willing to grant moments ago. Instead, she floundered forward, grabbing for the hand aiming the spray at her. They scuffled briefly, both only getting wetter and more winded, until - ridiculously tangled up with each other and the hose - they tumbled to the sodden grass in a heap of wriggling limbs.

At this point, both of them were laughing, hands rapidly smoothing over wet skin in delicious slides. The hose fell from Killian’s grip, easily forgotten, and the water splashed them both in a wild arc until it fell to the ground and stopped. The damage was long done anyway as they rolled together on the marshy ground, legs entwined and bodies beginning to move against each other deliciously, almost without thought in a deliciously familiar next move.

Unable to resist any longer, and far past teasing or trying to win their game, Emma’s hands stole to trace up his panting side, thrilling at the feel of his stomach muscles trembling where her fingertips swept over them. 

Killian was not idle as she worked feverishly, a low groan of pleasure escaping him as she stroked along the planes of his torso.  In the next moment, he dove in, pulling down the vee of her own shirt further and baring her breast before closing his mouth over the tight, alert bud warming and tormenting in equal measure with swipes of his wicked tongue.

She bucked up into him, keening and whimpering and wordlessly desperate to urge him on. After that, there was no time for words, merely pants of exertion, the occasional clacking of teeth, the slapping of damp skin on skin, and the smack of the rest of their soaking clothing frantically shed on the swampy ground around them. Soon they were moving in unison, Killian pushing forward, and her opening to pull him in, then clinging to him tightly for all she was worth.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Later, as the evening shadows fell, a light breeze moved in, cooling the heavy air of the day. Emma’s eyes trailed languidly over the nude lines of her husband’s hip and side as he returned to her with water and slid back under the light blanket they had draped over their bodies as they snuggled skin to skin on the back porch. It hadn’t seemed worth bothering to get dressed again when they’d only adjourned as far as the porch before their kisses and touches and mischievous smiles led to them going again at an achingly slower, more luxurious pace on the porch glider while the sun had slowly dipped closer to the horizon. As Killian curled back around her and brought her hand up to kiss each one of her knuckles reverently, humming as he somehow found a sweet bit of leftover ice cream, Emma could only think it was lucky their porch faced nothing but the rocky coastline and the harbor beyond it. Not that she was ashamed of how quickly she had melted at his whim, but she didn’t need anyone else to get an eyeful.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @kday426 @winterbaby89 @teamhook @revanmeetra87  @wefoundloveunderthelight @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @xsajx @hollyethecurious @lfh1226-linda @cosette141 @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @caught-in-the-filter @apiratewhopines 

[initiala]

amanda, if this isn't your time i don't know what is. please give us some sheriff/deputy smut. in your hot, detailed writing

this is me, ignoring my responsibilities, in favor of hot desk sex and bants

speculation and spoilers abound, obvs.

“Not much of a honeymoon,” Emma said between kisses, roughly shoving his leather jacket down his arms.

“And what, pray tell, is a honeymoon?” Killian asked, his hand busily undoing the button of her jeans.

She walked him back until his thighs hit the desk, then pushed him to sit on top of whatever files she’d left scattered on its surface; digitizing the town’s criminal records was going slowly, hampered not only by the usual revolving door of monsters and dwarven antics, but also by the fact that having Killian in the station with her put quite the damper on any desire to do anything but fuck him senseless..

Her husband was extremely distracting.

“A honeymoon,” she said, pausing long enough to strip her shirt off and toss it somewhere towards his desk, “is a vacation for newlyweds. A vacation primarily geared towards having lots and lots of sex.”

Killian hummed, and watched with interest as she unclasped her bra and draped it over one of the lamps. He probably already knew what it was, but one night and several shots of rum had led to him confessing that he liked the way she explained things. “Ah, so a bridal tour without all the pesky need to visit those unable to attend the wedding.”

“Screw them, they can send something off the registry. If we had one. I bet mom made us one.”

Killian’s mouth found her pulse hammering in her neck, his callused hand palming her hip. Emma groaned, working quickly on his shirt and vest buttons. She wanted him naked now.

But apparently he had other ideas. Killian’s shirt hung open as he switched their positions, lifting her slightly to perch on the desk and yanked her jeans and underwear down. Boots, socks, you name it – everything was flung across the room and Emma hardly had time to hope she could find her underwear before Killian was on his knees before her, nudging her thighs apart, and licking a long, slow stripe up her core.

He was relentless, alternating between fucking her with his tongue or lapping at her sensitive clit. Emma could only hang on for the ride, clutching the edge of the desk or his hair or his arm, whatever she could get her hands on. When her breath hitched and she gasped “There”, Killian thrust two fingers inside of her. His tongue swirled around her clit as his fingers curled up, stroking that sensitive spot just inside. Emma saw stars as her pleasure crested, crashing over her and stealing her breath.

She hardly felt Killian withdraw, her skin tingling pleasantly as she drifted down from her high. She heard clothes rustling and cracked open one eye. “Can you take more?” he asked, his hand a comfortable pressure on her hip.

She nodded eagerly, looking down to see his cock jutting out proudly near her core. “Yes please.”

He had her lay back, her hair trailing off the edge of the desk. She used to feel self-conscious about being laid so open and exposed, but this was Killian. Her True Love, her best friend, her husband. She could never feel self-conscious around him, not with how often he took the time to detail exactly what he loved about every part of her. His lips parted as he drank in the sight of her spread out on his desk, his eyes roving over her pale form; he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, then positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance. The slow stretch of him made her moan as he pushed inside. She loved the visible strain on his face, the sight of how much he held himself in check so as not to hurt her in pursuit of his own pleasure. She reached for him and he laced their fingers together, his brace resting on her thigh as he started to thrust.

The desk shook under her but Emma wasn’t worried about it breaking. This wasn’t the first time (or the last) that they’d taken advantage of a late night and an empty station, and she’d magically reinforced everything ages ago.

Well, the magical reinforcement was more to protect against the various villains they locked up on the regular, but if it let her fuck her husband without worry of breaking, then she wasn’t about to complain.

Killian took their joined hands and pressed her fingers just above her mound. “Feel us, love?” he asked, his pace unrelenting even as he spoke. She nodded, her arousal spiking higher at feeling him both inside and outside all at once. “Feel me inside you, fucking you? Oh, Emma, tell me you feel it, I need to hear you tell me.”

“I feel it,” she croaked. Her throat was dry. “I feel you – I feel your cock fucking me. I feel you thrusting –”

Killian growled and pulled her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist almost automatically, just as his hand slid under her ass to give him more leverage. His brace was a hard comfort on the small of her back and her arms wrapped around his neck as she hung on. His breathing grew more erratic as he chased his high; a stack of files behind them crashed to the floor and they paid it no mind. Emma arched as a second orgasm overtook her and a few moments later Killian stilled with a low groan. Dimly, she felt him spill himself inside her and almost laughed when she realized that knowledge only made her want him again.

God, she was turning into some kind of insatiable sex addict.

But if the sex was this good, was she really going to complain about it?

“Might want to move,” she said finally. “I’m gonna stain everything.”

Killian lifted her easily, still seated inside her, and moved them both to another, cleared desk. “Apologies, darling, for making a mess of you.”

She poked his shoulder, giggling. “I happen to like it when you get me all messy.”

He looked at her, one eyebrow lifted with intrigue. “Oh aye?”

Emma bit her lip, completely failing to hide her smile or stop more giggles from escaping her. “Yeah. I really do.”

He made the face that told her he was filing that away for future use, then lightly pinched her ass before pulling out of her. “Give a man some time to recover, sweet. Then I’ll be more than happy to make as much of a mess over you as you’d like.”

[kmomof4]

And here is @laschatzi take on the same scene from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Absolutely GORGEOUS!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ just as good as Lena’s!!!

I Bathe Quite Frequently

this little thing is the result of a friendly writing challenge with lenfaz - during a conversation about a movie we both adore: Robin Hood Prince Of Thieves (1991). There’s a scene where a naked Kevin Costner takes a bath in a lake, secretly ogled by a flustered Lady Marian. Lena had the great idea to use that same setting, set it in season 3A and well, guess who’s taking the bath and who’s looking on. Yeah.

You can read Lena’s awesome piece here: Lake.)

(also on ff.net and ao3)

The evening before the big show down with Pan was about to take place, Emma left the camp and took a walk to the nearby lake all by herself. This goddamn jungle was too fucking crowded; she needed time to herself, time away from the others – air to breathe. This was all too much. She wanted to forget everything, to stop thinking about tactics, strategy and danger for a while.

And she felt the urging need to put some distance between herself and the rest of their rescue party – she wasn’t in the mood for either of their company. She was sick and tired of Regina’s complaining that they’d have rescued Henry already a long time ago if they’d only let her unleash all her magic; her snarky, disdainful comments about their useless efforts were all but helpful. Neal made her feel uncomfortable with his eyes constantly searching hers, always trying to get near her, always throwing some dumb, puerile lines the pirate’s way. Sometimes he even acted like he was entitled to something, and that was something Emma really couldn’t stand. Yes, he was Henry’s father, and part of her would always love him, but there was no going back from the place they were now. At the same time, she still felt a little guilty for feeling that way. Her parents – she’d just started to feel sort of like a daughter, and then her mother confessed that she wanted to try for another child, like she wasn’t enough. Again. A fucking pattern in her messed-up life. Would there ever be someone in her life content with just having her, and nothing more? Would she, and she alone, ever be sufficient for someone? Probably not.

While walking towards the lake deep in thoughts, she pulled the tank top over her head; it was almost like she could already feel the cool water on her heated skin, washing away at least part of the fear, the sorrow and the pain she’d gone through these last few days.

Only when she’d already stepped out of the jungle and onto the shoreline of the lake, she noticed that its surface wasn’t as calm and smooth as it should have been, and the quietude of the dusk was interrupted by the sounds of splashing water and an unknown, but not unpleasant tune hummed in a low, husky, all to familiar voice. Oh shit. Emma stopped dead in her tracks. Hook.

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