#I cannot keep this woman off my dick when I wear joggers to work.

[reverend-meat]

my straight HR manager has somehow banned me from wearing anything Pride related.EVER.

Yet flirts with me like there is no tomorrow when I’m slightly more masc presenting than usual at work.

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (7/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I so rarely get the time to go through comments anymore, but I had some time this morning and just plowed through responding to a bunch but not all (I'm getting there). I want to let you all know that you're sweethearts, and I really appreciate you! ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

-/-

“So tell me, what are your intentions with our dear Emma?”

Killian coughs on his water, but luckily, he swallows it before it can all come out on his shorts. They’ve finally dried after Emma pulled him into the water, payback for him tossing her in, and he’d like to not be chilled after the sun has set and the air around them has cooled. Most of the Nolans’ neighbors have left and returned to their own homes, but several still remain lounging in the pool or inside where it’s warmer.

“Excuse me?”

“Emma,” Ruby repeats. The woman’s a little drunk, but no one would know it if it wasn’t for the slight way she delays a few of her words. Ruby’s girlfriend is inside getting her coffee now, but Killian already knows the hangover in the morning will be a killer. “Our lovely Emma Swan. What are your intentions with her?”

“To be her friend,” Killian says, not sure how to answer. Emma’s inside with David and Mary Margaret, and he wishes she were here to save him from this conversation.

“And to fuck her,” Ruby adds, and Killian nearly chokes on his water again. “But let me tell you something.” She pokes his chest, and Killian laughs. “She likes you.” “Is that what she said?”

“No, but she’s my best friend. I know her, and she likes you. Emma doesn’t like anyone. She talks about you all the time. I think she has a crush.”

“Does she now? Talk about me, that is.”

“Maybe not an official crush, but she talks about you, so she might as well write Emma Swan likes Killian Jones on all of her notebooks.”

She’s drunk, he reminds himself. She’s drunk, and she’s not sure what she’s saying. He and Emma have an agreement, and even though they can be rather friendly with each other, that’s simply the aftereffect of spending so much time together. You have to be a good communicator in order to have good sex, and, well, he might not be good at a lot of things now, but he’s good at that.

“Okay, lass,” he starts, standing from the chair. He helps Ruby stand as well, but she quickly does it on her own. Like her words, her steps only barely fumble, and he thinks that has something to do with the ridiculous heels she’s wearing. “Let’s go inside with everyone else, and let’s not talk about Emma anymore.”

Ruby hums, but he knows she won’t listen. He braces himself for the fallout.

But to his surprise, she doesn’t make a beeline for Emma. She goes straight to Mulan, hugging her as she makes Ruby’s coffee. Killian, however, does head for Emma. She’s on the couch in the living room. Her hair is freshly combed through, and she’s wearing what he can only assume are a pair of Mary Margaret’s pajamas. He’s seen an assortment of Emma’s, and there are very few floral sets like this.

Killian slips onto the cushion next to her, keeping his space. They’ve crossed a few of their own boundaries lately, but sometimes it’s good to keep them in place, especially around other people. Not that it matters here when everyone knows what he and Emma are to each other.

Well, what he thinks they are to each other. He’s trying not to put too much stock into what Ruby said, but the words have settled directly into the middle of his mind.

“What are you wearing?” he asks since everyone else seems to be occupied by the baseball game on the television.

“Mary Margaret’s. I didn’t bring extra clothes, and some asshole threw me into the pool.”

“What a wanker.”

Emma laughs and pulls a blanket up further over her, wrapping her body in it. “Do you want to leave soon? Go back to my place? It’s closer than yours.”

“You sure you haven’t had enough of me today?”

Emma exhales and pats his knee. “I’m sure.”

They drive separately to Emma’s place. Killian parks in his usual spot across the street while Emma parks in the driveway and leaves the front door unlocked for him to follow through. She’s already tossing her wet clothes into the washing machine by the time he gets inside.

“Hand me yours. I’ll wash them too.”

Killian glances down at his clothes. “I won’t have anything else to wear, darling. Though, I’m sure that’s your intention.”

Emma rolls her eyes and holds her hand out. “I don’t have to fake doing your laundry to see your dick, Jones. Just give me the clothes. You’ve left stuff upstairs.”

Killian slowly pulls his t-shirt off, making it as seductive as possible, but Emma only starts tapping her foot. He laughs and tosses his shirt into the machine before doing the same with his shorts and briefs. Emma does a bland wolf whistle, and Killian adds a small amount of sway to his hips as he walks upstairs to find the clothes she claims he left behind. There’s a pair of joggers in one of her drawers, which he quickly pulls on before going to her bathroom to brush his teeth. She joins him to do her nightly routine that he knows as well as his own now.

Wash face. Moisturize face. Brush teeth. Brush hair. Put lotion on arms and legs. Get in bed.

It’s far more intimate than he’s been with a woman in a long time, since Tink actually, but nothing about it is truly complicated. There’s no wondering if he’s taking her out enough, if he’s being supportive enough, if he’s being emotionally vulnerable enough, if he’s being enough. His arrangement with Emma is simple, even if sometimes little slivers of complicated slip in.

He likes her, likes sleeping with her, and even if he knows this all ends when he returns to his real life in England before October, he’s going to enjoy it for now.

Ruby’s words poke at the back of his mind, but he brushes them away. Again. And again until they disappear, at least for now. He knows they’ll sneak back in because if Emma likes him the way a drunk Ruby thinks, that could be complicated in more ways than he’s willing to think about.

More ways than he can handle without his own head becoming a messy place when this is the first time in a long time it’s been clear.

(But who is he kidding? The messy is already starting to slip in.)

Killian joins Emma in her bed, getting comfortable underneath the covers, and Emma flips over, the strap of her ridiculous floral pajamas falling over. Killian reaches for it and tugs it back up, his thumb running underneath her collarbone. Her skin is always ridiculously soft, which she always claims is from the lotion.

It’s not.

“Today was nice,” he whispers, still running his thumb along her collarbone. He leans in, gently and nudges his nose underneath it, breathing her in. She still smells of chlorine. “Thanks for letting me come along.” Emma hums and runs her hands through his hair, scratching along his scalp. Damn, that feels good. “I couldn’t stop you if I tried…not that I would. I guess you’re allowed to spend time with my friends.”

“Your generosity overflows.” Emma laughs, and Killian continues to work his mouth along her collarbone. “Your laugh is spectacular.” He drags his nose down her chest until he’s pushing aside her shirt and freeing her breast. “This is also spectacular.”

She laughs again, and Emma quickly unbuttons her shirt so Killian can have a better grasp on her breast. She arches her back and pulls down her shorts, and while Killian wasn’t planning on this being anything more than some light teasing, he now knows it isn’t that.

Not that he would ever complain.

His mouth dries when Emma reaches between them and grabs his cock underneath his joggers. It feels damn good, like it always does, and he moves away from Emma’s stomach to help pull down his joggers so Emma can get a better grip. Her hand is warm and soft, and he could let her do this all night.

“Fuck,” he whispers, and Emma smirks. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“I’m hysterical. Get on your back.”

“You know I like a woman in charge.”

“Alright, don’t get on your back.”

Killian huffs and kisses just above her navel before flipping over onto his back, propping his head up with pillows. Emma moves to straddle his thighs, rubbing herself over him in order to tease, and Killian places his hands on her hips, helping her balance. It’s slow when she guides him into her, and Killian curses at how good it feels, how good she feels. It’s even slower when Emma begins to move her hips, a gentle back and forth that has her hair falling in damp waves over her shoulders. It’s a good view, a good feeling, even when the room is only illuminated by the moonlight shining through the window on the opposite side of the room and the light coming through the hallway door. It makes Emma’s hair glow nearly silver, and he grabs the ends, running it between his fingers.

Emma begins to talk about the party, telling him he missed a rousing rendition of Chicago, courtesy of a drunk Mary Margaret, and Killian doesn’t even want to imagine that. Emma does a pretty good impersonation, however, so he really has no choice other than to think about it.

This is good. It’s nice. For the last couple years, sex has been nothing but scratching the itch. It’s been fast, simple, and maybe only involved a few dates. There was no talking or laughing, and there definitely was not any impersonating drunk friends doing musical numbers.

Emma is so damn closed off most of the time, but there are moments like this, like earlier when she shared a little about her past, that he wonders if she’s becoming a little more open.

He thinks he’d like to get to know her more. At least as a friend since he knows more won’t be possible.

There those thoughts come again, invading his space just like Emma is.

Emma’s movements become a little stunted, the roll of her hips not as smooth, so Killian tightens his grip on her thighs and slowly moves them over. When he slips out of her, he quickly thrusts back in as they settle into their new position. The air is tight in his chest, his release coming faster than he expected, and he whispers so to Emma as his hand reaches down between them while her legs wrap around his ass and her hands trace the muscles in his back.

It’s good.

It’s all so bloody good, and he doesn’t want it to end.

But it does, of course, in several hissed curses and whispered words, and Killian grins into Emma’s collarbone before rolling off her.

“I was not expecting that,” Emma mumbles, patting his stomach, “but it works for me.”

“Glad to be of service,” Killian chuckles.

Emma hums and then gets out of bed to walk to the bathroom while he cleans up around them before grabbing the joggers off the floor and putting them back on. Emma comes out of the bathroom in a pair of shorts and a tank top, a much more Emma-like outfit, and he smiles before getting comfortable in bed. He could go home, go back to the big house with no one around, but he knows Emma will let him stay here until she has to go to work in the morning.

“I’m exhausted,” Emma sighs before getting into bed and yanking the covers up to her neck. “Do you think I could get away with playing hooky tomorrow?”

“On a Sunday morning? At the Blue Dog?”

“Ugh,” she groans, “you’re right. I hate when you’re right.” “So you hate me all the time then?”

Emma rolls her eyes and kicks his shin. “Goodnight, Jones.”

Killian leans over and kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Swan.”

-/-

The sun is beginning to rise when he wakes, the dark sky being infiltrated by little bursts of orange light, and while Killian tries to bury his face in Emma’s hair and fall back asleep, he can’t. Despite his best efforts, he’s awake, and after spending nearly an hour answering texts and emails from Ariel, Elsa, and Scarlet, he slowly climbs out of bed, making sure not to disturb Emma, and goes downstairs to fix breakfast. His stomach growls with hunger despite how much he ate yesterday, and surprisingly, Emma has food in her fridge. She’s a fan of take-out and leftovers from her places of work, so rarely is there ever food in the fridge.

Killian takes the eggs and milk out, grabbing some fruit too, before he grabs some flour from her cabinets. It’s been years since he used a waffle maker, and despite a disastrous first attempt, he gets the hang of it enough to start making some eggs on the stove. Emma can sleep like the dead, but her alarm should be going off any minute now. Usually, she heads straight for the shower, but Killian knows Emma can’t resist food, especially if it’s something different than what she eats every day.

There’s a creak upstairs, obviously Emma’s footsteps, and then he hears a door open, and Killian flips the waffle over.

“Emma, love, do you want fruit in your waffles? Or maybe some chocolate. I know you must have chocolate around here.”

There’s no answer, at least not from Emma.

“Are you my mom’s friend?”

Killian jumps and turns to see a kid standing in the kitchen. What the hell? Who the hell is that, and what is he doing in Emma’s house?

“Who, uh, who’s your mum?” Killian asks, scratching his ear and hoping Emma comes down the stairs at any moment. Maybe this is a neighbor’s kid who decided to have a little fun today. “Who are you, mate?”

“I think the better question,” an older man holding suitcases says, “is who the hell are you? And what do you think you’re doing in my son’s house?”

-/-

-/-

@qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion @dramioneswan @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @gloriousfemaleworrier @spartanguard @snowbellewells

[buch15mcneil-blog]

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