Once Upon a Time 1. Chapter 1

**Tumblr prompt f****ollow-up to episode 3x06 Ariel...**...

**Anonymous asked:**

**_care to write a fic to follow up last nights epi? just remember that it's cs fluff month ;)_**

**_Hmmmm well anon…I don't think last night was the fluffiest of episodes…while glorious I'd say fluff was most definitely lacking…which makes a fluffy follow-up nearly impossible._**

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_Don't leave me._

She pretends to stare at the fire, her eyes fixated on the crackling flames, as she stoically sits; her back up against a tree, her legs sprawled out in front of her, feigning a relaxed and comfortable position. Her mind is racing. Racing, racing, racing. So much was revealed…too much was revealed… and she's tired, so tired…_exhausted_. But instead of resting, instead of giving over to the weariness that's slowly consuming her—her body and mind resisting stubbornly—her thoughts drift to the wayward rescue party that's scattered around her.

David and Mary Margaret sit next to her, their silence nearly overwhelming as they both gaze in opposite and far off directions, refusing to speak…attempting to ignore the mounting tension that's building between them. Neal is sitting on the other side of the fire; his eyes cast down on the small pocket knife he holds in his hand, his fingers flicking open the blade and pushing it closed again in steady and timed succession—the clicking sound both distracting and soothing.

And Hook…

_Please don't leave me. _

He's standing on the outskirts of the camp at the very edge of the jungle, his eyes looking anywhere but at her as he tightly grasps the bottle of unopened rum in his hand, almost as if debating whether he wants to chuck it or chug it. _God_ what she wouldn't give for a swig of the strong and burning liquor; and she tries to disregard the protesting voice in her head that objects to the sudden awkwardness that has settled between them with all that's been revealed, said, and done.

Letting her gaze flutter up to the vibrantly lit starry night sky, she allows a small sigh to escape her, the slight and nearly unnoticeable trembling of her lips that follows causing her eyes to widen with a touch of anger and a hint of unnerving surprise.

She won't cry.

She can't cry.

Her teeth quickly find the inside of her cheek and biting down, she focuses on the stinging pain and the bitter taste of blood she draws as she attempts…nearly frantically tries…to focus on anything else other than where her mind wants to go…on where it _insists_ on going.

_And God, please don't leave me. _

So, so, so much has been exposed.

She wants to ignore it.

She wants to forget it.

She wishes she could.

And she really, really _can't _cry.

She can't concentrate on the pang in her chest at the knowledge that Neal is alive and well and willing to fight for her over a decade too late. She can't focus on David and his dark and hopeless fate as it taunts her mockingly—his words registering in her muddled and hazy brain, the thought of losing him scaring her more than she's willing to admit to.

But mostly, infuriatingly, she can't acknowledge Mary Margaret's secret—her mother's words bringing old and forgotten wounds rushing to the surface even as the more logical side of her tries to understand.

_It's not what I wanted._

_She's _not what she wanted._  
_

It's a confession that has her reeling and traveling back in time; her adult mind warring with the voice of the lost orphan that lurks inside of her, crying out as she's reminded once again about how she wasn't wanted by so many different families so many, many years ago…

It was always something different, always some faulty excuse for why she wasn't good enough.

She was too old.

Too young.

Too skinny.

Too chubby.

Too needy.

Too distant.

Too pretty.

Too ugly.

_Don't leave me, love me, accept me, just please, please don't ever leave me—_the voice is hushed and barely there, but even so, it whispers the plea in her head over and over and over again, protesting quietly as she tries to push away Mary Margaret's confession—attempting with everything she has in her to understand and accept the fact that she's not the child that her mother wants…not really.

And she gets it.

She really does.

But it hurts, goddammit…it hurts.

She wants to put up a brave front.

She wants to pretend she's stronger than everything that's been thrown at her.

But it's _hard._

Because, even amidst the curses, the portal jumping, the dark magic, and the life-threatening situations…

She had begun to believe.

She had begun to hope.

She had allowed herself to think that maybe she could have a family, _a real family. _Maybe, just maybe, she, Emma Swan, was enough, was deserving of love—of a happy ending—with the mother and father she had always wondered about, dreamed of, and wished for.

It was silly, stupid, ridiculous.

And now, now she feels like an imposter, like a fraud and a phony.

She's weak.

Vulnerable.

Insecure.

Not good enough, never good enough.

_Don't leave me, please don't leave me. _

Bringing her hands to her head she closes her eyes, and rubs her temples lightly; her fingers digging into the skin there as she attempts to chase her cruel and mocking thoughts away.

_Henry. _

He's her focus now.

He's her concern.

Her pride, her heart and her feelings no longer matter.

And opening her eyes, and inhaling deeply, she pushes away the longing, the dark and constant hurt that continues to stubbornly linger, as her gaze carelessly wanders over the camp—unwilling to face anyone…_anything—_before, almost as if of its own accord, it comes to a stop on Hook.

He's watching her.

His face conveys his inner battle—showing her a struggle that she's all too familiar with…reflecting a look she's seen one too many times staring back at her in the mirror. He appears broken and lost…his stance tense and unsure as his gaze locks with hers.

There's a question in his eyes, one that—beyond the pain, beyond the uncertainty—she knows he's practically begging her to answer.

Flee?

Stay?

_I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah…to believe that I could find someone else…_

_That is until I met you._

_Until I met you._

_Until I met you._

_Until I met you._

His words come out of nowhere, his lilting voice sounding in her head as she recalls his secret from the cave. Hearing it then, she'd been confused—bombarded with varying emotions, unsure what to think, what to believe as Neal sat trapped in a cage, nearly a stone's throw away. But remembering them now, replaying his confession over and over again in her head, she feels something unfamiliar and new. Something almost welcoming sparks to life deep inside of her, taking her by surprise—her pulse picking up in pace, her heart jumping slightly

She knows that she should try to figure out what his words mean, what she feels, what she wants; but selfishly there's a large part of her that's just too tired to dissect her thoughts, that's too scared to delve too deeply into his terrifying statement, into his more than obvious actions.

Instead she just wants to absorb the overwhelming warmth that's suddenly consuming her whole.

Instead she just wants him to stay.

_And please, don't leave me, please, please don't leave me. _

And she thinks, as she watches him straighten his spine, his eyes flitting from hers to drift to the dark and thick trees just beyond—the jungle a place he could effortlessly hide in, a place he could easily lose them in—that it would be nice, for once, to have someone stick around.

Not to make up for the past, not because they feel obligated, not because they're family, not because they're working towards a common goal…

But because they want to.

_And God, dear God, please don't ever leave me._

Meeting his gaze as it slowly, finally, wanders back to hers, she lowers her barriers for only a moment. She allows him to see past the walls she's carefully constructed, allows him to glimpse the pain, the confusion, the helplessness that she feels.

She allows him to _choose_.

And she sees it, the instant he makes his choice.

Compassion, understanding, acceptance all ghost across his shadowed features for a moment, before, with a barely there nod and a hint of a troubled smirk he moves closer to the fire, the sound of leaves rustling and sticks breaking under his booted feet causing the others to look up, paying him curious attention, before quickly looking away. Sitting down at the farthest corner of the camp, he pockets his rum, leans back against a large boulder, and breaks away from her burning and unblinking gaze. His eyes closing tightly and his features softening fractionally, he settles in.

He stays.

And as she continues to watch him from under heavy and hooded eyes, studying and absorbing the way the firelight dances across his face as his body, still tense and rigid, attempts to relax; she feels the hurt inside of her subside just a little as something weighted and telling settles on her shoulders.

He's not going to leave her.

_He stayed._

**_End._**

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**_Review? ;)  
_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Fluff!**

**lil-albatross asked:**

_Pregnancy fluff? Is that a viable option Col? :]_

_**Okay so it's slightly angsty but definitely fluffy…I think?! ;)  
**_

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_Silence._

Too loud silence.

Deafening silence.

Telling, crushing, silence.

"Emma—"

She pushed away from the kitchen table, her chair scraping against the tiled floor loudly as she stood up quickly and walked away on shaky and weak legs. Moving towards the sink, she braced herself against the counter, her hands clutching the edge tightly as she stood with her back to him, noting with a slight sinking feeling that he had yet to make a move—his words seemingly caught in his throat. Closing her eyes for a moment, collecting her thoughts while trying to calm her suddenly rapidly beating heart, she reached up to the nearest cupboard, opened it and grabbed a glass, her hands—trembling and somewhat numb—barely able to hold onto it as she filled it with water and downed the entire thing in one go.

"Emma…" he tried again, his lilting voice soft, the tiniest hint of concern woven into his tone.

"Just…just wait…" she said quietly, cutting him off once again as she placed the glass back down on the counter. Taking in a deep breath and gathering her courage, she straightened her shoulders and turned to him, disregarding the burning sting in her eyes, the way her vision was blurring slightly with the threat of something she refused to acknowledge as tears. "Yes…yes I'm pregnant and yes it's yours…I mean, _obviously_ it's yours. And…and I know…I know it's a shock and I know that it's sudden and…and dammit I know whatever is going on between us is still new and fragile and…" she paused, shaking her head quickly as her throat began to close up on her; her eyes flitting over his shoulder, to the door behind him, down to the ground and then slowly back up again—landing everywhere…_anywhere_… but directly on him.

She couldn't face him.

She couldn't bear to see what was there…lingering in his stare.

"And I'm scared…terrified actually." She whispered, hating herself for admitting it out loud—her lips trembling, a slight buzz humming in her ears. '"And last week when I found out…I didn't know what to do…I panicked, I didn't want to tell you. That's…that's why I waited. I was even more terrified than I am now… because…because up until then I had never thought about…never gave myself a chance to think about…I never thought I could…" Annoyed with her stuttering and halting words, she drew her lower lip into her mouth, biting down on it sharply and wincing when she tasted blood—concentrating on the burn, desperate to keep herself from crying, frantic to find the right way to convey her feelings to him.

But how could she put into words what she was feeling when she didn't even know herself?

Fear.

Shock.

Confusion.

Awe.

_Hope._

"I'm keeping it…him…her…the baby." She said quickly the words coming out in one whooshing and jumbled statement. "Because while I'm terrified, and completely unprepared, and…and…" she shook her head again, turning away from him and back towards the sink, her eyes closing slowly as she heard him get up behind her. "For the past week I've allowed myself to think…to accept the possibility…and…" she let out another shaky breath—one that was just short of a disbelieving laugh—before continuing to struggle with her words. "And I want it. _God_, I didn't realize how badly I wanted it…didn't give myself a chance to even play with the idea that I could ever want to again. I mean, not that last time was much of a…with Henry…I messed up and…I mean…dammit what I'm saying is now that it's here and happening…I want it. I want it so badly." She stopped abruptly, listened to the silence that lingered behind her, registered the ticking of the clock off to the side, her eyes a complete watery mess. "I'm keeping the baby Killian…you don't have to…I don't expect you to…I can do this on my own…I've done it before…kind of…you don't…" she stopped suddenly, feeling a warm presence at her back—fingers wrapping around her elbow and turning her around slowly.

He wasn't leaving.

Finally, unable to stop herself any longer, she let herself look up into the searching and knowing stare she knew could be, _would be_, her eventual undoing—her lips dipping down into a quivering frown as tears, hot and damning, trailed down her cheeks freely.

And as her eyes locked with his, she tried to swallow, tried to steady herself; a slight gasp escaping her lips as she saw what swam in his vividly blue gaze…

Fear.

Shock.

Confusion.

Awe.

_Hope._

"You're having a baby." he whispered in a tone that had gone gruff, raspy, and thick with emotion. "_We're_ having a baby."

"Yes." She couldn't say anything else, her voice soft, her eyes burning, her mind a muddled mess—she felt weak, vulnerable, and unstable.

But she didn't care.

She couldn't.

And as he pulled her into his arms, whispering endearments into her hair in a tone that was filled with wonder, admiration, and something that her heart tentatively placed as love, even while her still hazy mind refused to accept it, she finally let herself relax—despite the fact that there was a voice in her head that hissed that she was stronger than this, that she needed no one, that she was perfectly capable of doing this on her own.

Instead of pushing him away she leaned into his embrace.

Instead of running she let herself be held, comforted, and taken care of.

Her fear subsiding slightly, she listened to him as he assured her that he'd be there, that he wasn't going anywhere, that she wasn't going to have to do this alone.

She was having a baby.

They were having a baby…

_Together._

**_End._**

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**_Review?_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Tumblr prompt:**

_**Post Neverland: Deputy!Hook sees Emma's curls for the first time and reacts**._

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"Your hair is different."

Running a hand through her blonde curls, Emma raises a brow at him as she walks into the station, silently amused by the sight of him sitting at his desk surrounded by paperwork. She doesn't think she'll ever get over it—coming into work and knowing he'll be there, acting as her newest deputy. "My hair's fine." She murmurs coming to a stop next to him and glancing down as he idly drums his fingers in front of him to some random and unknown beat.

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with it love, it's just different…it's nice." Lifting his good hand towards her, he makes a move to touch, merely chuckling when she quickly slaps him away.

"Knock it off."

"It's rather fluffy."

"It's not fluffy!"

He grins, humor lighting his eyes as he goes to touch again, his smile stretching across his face when she shoots him a mere warning look and raises a brow while backing away.

"Quit trying to touch my hair."

"It's…bouncy."

"It's curly."

"Mmmm…I have to wonder." he drawls as he leans back in his chair, vibrantly blue gaze appraising her silently, "What brought on the sudden change?"

Rolling her eyes at the somewhat teasing tone, she frowns a little; and drawing her lower lip into her mouth, she turns from him without answering, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she walks into her office and sits down at her desk—closing her eyes for a moment, she relaxes in her chair. Had it been any other guy, they would have looked her over once, either not noticed her hair or simply not commented on it and then gone about their usual business. Killian Jones is not any other guy. He notices things, observes, makes note—his eyes more often than not watching her carefully.

It would be annoying if it were anyone else…

But Killian Jones is not anyone else.

And as they settle into a normal and somewhat domestic lifestyle, Neverland far behind them, their friendship a fragile and delicate thing, she can't deny the harder it's getting…ignoring her ever-growing attraction towards him—her mind more often than not drifting to those few stolen kisses shared between them.

So maybe she had woken up extra early that morning and had taken a little more time to do her hair, and perhaps she had put on her favorite pair of jeans that just so happen to make her ass look great, and there was a very distinct possibility she had even applied an extra coat of mascara and a tiny bit of barely there lip gloss before she had gotten out of the cruiser.

That doesn't mean anything.

Not one little thing.

And suppressing a groan, and throwing an arm over her eyes, she shakes her head, feeling ridiculously feminine and seriously stupid all at the same time.

"I'm heading to the diner darling, I'll bring you back something if you're a good girl."

His words so close to her ear, have her to sitting up with a start, a number of curses flying from her lips, as she takes in the sight of him, straightening and standing in front of her— humor lighting his eyes and a grin dusting his lips.

"Jesus Christ could you not do that."

"Apologies love."

His tone and smirk betray his actual remorse and rolling her eyes as he makes a move to leave, she goes to start up her computer, pausing when she realizes he's stopped by the door. "What?"

"I like them."

"Like what?"

He smiles at that, a genuine smile that makes his features appear softer and his eyes twinkle lightly. "The curls…your hair…it suits you." And without giving her a chance to respond, he shoots her a wink, before turning to walk away, grabbing his leather coat of its hook and picking up something from the desk as he makes his way towards the door.

Leaning back, she can't help the ghost of a smile that flits across her lips, a voice in her head scolding her for her softness, even as a slightly more smug one applauds her for her early morning efforts.

It's still seriously stupid, it's still ridiculously feminine.

But as she runs a hand through her hair, her smile kicking up another notch, she can't really bring herself to care…

Much.

**End.**

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**Review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Anonymous asked:**

**_Hook jerking off and emma catches him and then stays..._**

**M content ahead...  
**

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She should've listened to that voice.

The small whisper in her head.

The one that had warned her not to just storm into his cabin—hissing at her harshly while reminding her to _knock._

God she really should've have listened.

But instead of heeding the warning, instead of thinking her actions through, already annoyed that she was hunting him down, thick folder in hand, on her lunch break so that she could go over a number of complaints that had been filed against him in the last week alone—she had waltzed right in, paying the closed door no attention as she barreled on through.

And now, as she felt her gaze widen at the sight before her, her cheeks heating as his eyes flashed to hers, she really fucking hated herself for disregarding that stupid, _stupid_, little voice.

"Oh God." She whispered softly, her gaze drifting from his slightly glazed eyes, over his flushed face, down his heaving chest, to where his fingers where wrapped tightly around _himself—_his hand still moving ever so slowly_._ "Oh. My. God."

Shifting the file she held in her hand, she made a move to turn around; and as her body slammed into the still open door, she lost her grip causing the papers inside the folder to fall and flutter to the ground. "Dammit…oh God. I'm sorry…just…" she bent down to pick them up, her eyes rolling to the ceiling as she quickly and hastily gathered the trivial complaints—a part of her wanting to laugh while another, larger part, seriously was considering simply just giving up and crying.

Because of fucking course.

She was skipping her lunch, she was just trying to do her goddamned job, and now, _now _she was practically on her hands and knees, scrambling around, while _Captain fucking Hook_ was jerking off on his bed.

"I just had some things to discuss with you but…" Picking up the last of the papers, she straightened; her eyes flitting to him, she felt her mouth drop open slightly and her cheeks burn hotly as she realized with a vague sense of outrage that he had yet to tuck himself back in. "What the hell?" she swallowed, physically forcing herself to keep her eyes on his, curious about the sudden pull in her belly, and slightly worried about the almost unnoticeable clenching of her thighs. "Could you just…" more than a little exasperated, she heaved a sigh, gesturing almost wildly to his groin area as she shot him an icy glare.

His lips quirked up into a knowing and undeniably salacious grin, and dimly she noted the sound of faint warning bells ringing in her ears, as he merely lifted a dark brow—his hand moving up and down his length slowly as he watched her carefully with his entirely too blue eyes.

"Just wait outside darling, I'll be done in a moment."

She felt both of her eyebrows shoot up to her forehead at his statement…_his implications_…and opening her mouth she closed it once again when no words came out—instead opting for staring at him hard while she struggled to speak. Because really, she had just caught him with…well…_himself_…and rather than acting embarrassed or at least feigning the part he still planned on finishing off.

_Jesus Christ. _

"You can't be serious."

His grin merely widened at her disbelieving words, and moving his hand down himself once, twice, he shrugged his shoulders with a confidence that oozed nonchalance. "If you'd rather stay here I'd be perfectly fine with that my dear…while the imagination is quite a powerful tool…I believe the fantasy definitely pales in comparison to reality."

God. Damn. Him.

"You…you can't…" she sputtered, her heartbeat starting to race as she picked up on his too obvious implications…the bastard had been thinking of _her…_was most likely still thinking of her.

"Actually darling…I can. Now while I don't mind an audience…if it bothers you, just wait outside as I doubt I'll be much longer…I believe you've provided me with some extra…_inspiration_."

_Fucking. Pirate. _

"No…no you listen to me…you…you cannot think about…there's no way in hell…I'm not…no Hook…just no." She knew she was barely making sense but goddamnit he was throwing her—she could hardly think straight with him sprawled out in front of her—everything about him practically screaming to her…calling to her…beckoning her.

It really shouldn't be such a damned turn on.

And she supposed it didn't help that things between them were tense.

After everything that had happened in Neverland, the declarations, the almosts and the close calls, she had told him once they had gotten back to Storybrooke that she had just needed some time.

And he had given it to her.

Only now, _now_ she wasn't sure how much longer that self-control would last—she could see the challenge in his gaze, the taunting and smug look that had shadowed his features.

_And. God. Damn. Him. _

"I…I'm…"

"Stay or leave sweetheart, the choice is yours, but it's quite unkind to leave a man in such a delicate state…." He left the sentence hanging—his fingers jerking slightly with his words as a wicked gleam glimmered in his eyes.

_She was so screwed._

And she had just been trying to do her job.

"Yeah, yeah…okay Hook…fine…I'm just gonna…" she swallowed once, her throat feeling too narrow and tight as she attempted and failed yet again to keep her eyes on his.

Unable to help herself, she felt her gaze drift downwards, her mouth going dry and her vision going hazy as she took in the sight of him…really took in the sight of him.

He was hard, and pulsing, and goddammit she had just been trying to do her job.

But as the air between them became suddenly stifling, as her gaze refused to raise even when he began to move his hand once again—faster now, his grip seemingly tighter, his breathing quite suddenly louder—she wondered if perhaps all this time, maybe she had been fighting a losing battle.

Maybe it was time to just let go…

After all, she did work way too much.

It wouldn't hurt to let loose every once in awhile.

She _was_ already wet between her thighs.

And, really, it had been so very_ very _long…_way too long_…since she had last gotten laid.

_Your call Swan. _

Shifting her gaze to the ceiling, staring at it for a long moment, she shook her head slowly, a tiny disbelieving smirk suddenly dusting her lips as she turned from him and walked back towards the door once again—without a word she placed a hand on it and closed it softly before turning back to him once more.

"What the hell." She murmured, her smirk stretching into a grin when she saw his eyes widen and his fingers still as she quickly made her way towards his bed.

She really should've listened to that voice…

**End.**

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**Review?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Tumblr prompt:**

_**hook and emma anal sex please please please!**_

**M content folks...please don't read if you're not comfortable with it!**

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_This was not enjoyable….not at all._

It was too much.

Closing her eyes, her hands—planted on either side of her head—shook as she tried to relax her grip in the tangled sheets, a small shuddering gasp escaping her lips as she felt him move behind her ever so slightly; the stretch and burn taking her by surprise and causing her to clench her fingers into tight fists once again.

_Goddammit it was too much._

It hurt.

The kind of hurt that was bordering on real pain, and as he continued to slowly ease himself into her overly lubricated and too tight hole, his hook and hand braced on either side of her ass, she cringed—curious if she could take the almost unbearable sensation.

"Sweetheart…are you alright?" his voice was low and deep and velvet smooth—a tinge of concern woven into his tone.

And really, why was he talking? What was he thinking asking her questions right now? She didn't want him to talk, not when she was trying to concentrate on breathing, not when she was trying to keep from cursing him out and bucking him off of her all the while screaming and shouting _no fucking way._

_It was too damned much. _

Still, even though every fiber of her being was protesting, she just needed him to_ move_, she just needed to convince herself that she could handle it, that it was no big fucking deal. After all it had been her idea…something she'd always wondered about but had never allowed herself to try—her past sexual conquests consisted of dozens of one-night-stands, a failed and toxic relationship, and a promise to herself to never _ever_ let herself become too vulnerable.

"Anal isn't exactly the most empowering of positions." She had told him when he had shown his surprise at her lack of experience—his face softening when she had admitted to her still lingering reluctance to try it.

And now, as she braced herself for more, as her knees quivered beneath her, as her hands trembled in the sheets, as his cock sunk into her slowly…_too slowly…_she was quickly reminded about her prior objections with her former lovers.

Sure, she trusted him completely; he'd never hurt her intentionally. But that didn't take away from the fact that she was entirely at his mercy. And God help her, she couldn't pinpoint if she loved or hated the feeling.

_A toss up. _

The experience was completely foreign, and really, despite all she had been through recently, she didn't do well with the unknown. Add that to the fact that she had never felt so fucking defenseless in her entire life, she was beyond stretched, and the burning cramping was nearly taking her breath away…and she was almost positive that this kink was just not for her.

She wanted it done with.

She wanted him to man up and just take her so that it would finally be over.

"You just need to relax darling."

Gritting her teeth at his words, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she felt him stiffen and still his movements, allowing his statement to hang in the air, as he stroked her back somewhat soothingly. And _Jesus Christ_, it really was amazing how he could go from ruthless and nearly punishing to soft and overly concerned in the bedroom in a matter of minutes—she had the fading bruises and the lingering bite marks to prove the former and she wasn't sure she'd be so head over heels in love with him if it weren't for the latter.

"Goddammit Killian will you shut up and move already." She was pretty sure the wavering of her voice and the huskiness in her tone betrayed her desire for him to heed her request; but even so, she heard him swear softly behind her, his grip tightening on her skin as his cock shifted every so slightly inside of her—slipping another inch in.

"Emma I don't want to hurt—"

"Fuck me Killian okay?…I want you to fuck me in the ass _now."_

That seemed to do the trick.

With a harsh, nearly violent curse, she felt him go rigid for a few brief seconds before pushing into her further; her entire body objecting and a tiny whimper escaping her as a muffled and shaky groan slipped from his lips—his hook nearly piercing her hip as he continued to sink into her slowly.

Slow, _still too slow._

_P_ulling out, the pressure inside of her lessening briefly, she caught her breath for a moment, before it was stolen away once again as he slid himself back in. This time going deeper, his thrust slightly harder; the cramping became even more noticeable as a voice in her head screamed for her to push him back out.

"Fuck." She whispered, her body trying to adjust to the too intense intrusion as her fingers dug into the mattress, desperately searching for purchase—her mind reeling and frantically questioning if _this was okay_. "Oh my…_fuck_…wait…stop…I just need you to—to…give me a second…I'm_…"_

"Finger yourself darling." His voice interrupted her shaky words, as he pushed back in once again, her walls feeling a bit looser as she tried to accommodate his size—although generously endowed he felt so much bigger than usual…and Christ she really wasn't sure if she could take it. _"Right now_…touch yourself."

"I—I—Killian…." she whined the words out, and had she not been so bombarded by sensations, had she not been so distracted by the way he had seated himself so deep inside of her and was now grinding his hips against her, moving deliberately in slow and circular motions, she would have cursed herself for the weak and desperate sound.

"Let me see you pleasure yourself while my cock is fucking your ass."

"Oh God." With the blood in her veins humming, white noise in her head pounding, and her breathing coming out labored, she barely heard his request—her fingers shaky and nearly numb lifting of their own accord to make their way to her clit.

"That's a good girl…just like that." His murmured encouragement had something inside of her sparking, and she couldn't help the moan of appreciation that left her lips as she began to rub herself slowly—the cramping lessening slightly as he began to move steadily once again.

"Gods Emma you're so tight…you feel so good wrapped around me."

He increased his pace with his words, and although he definitely wasn't moving with the reckless abandon and unrelenting enthusiasm that he usually fucked her with, it was fractionally better than the brutally slow pace he had started with.

"You're bloody brilliant. Bloody. Fucking. Brilliant."

Her body feeling as though it was on sensory overload, began to truly register everything she was experiencing—his cock deep in her ass, the overly full sensation that came with it, her fingers dancing across her clit, igniting sparks of heat in her belly, his balls slapping against her hand, spurring her to touch herself faster, and his words drifting to her ears, mixing with his grunts and her breathy pants— it all nearly drowned out everything else.

_It was erotic. _

And even though she still felt a bit too full, even though she wasn't sure if the deep ache was as pleasurable as it was annoying, she felt a shift inside her—her hips rocking backwards to meet with his steady thrusts.

"You like this don't you sweetheart?"

Did she?

She wasn't sure, she really wasn't.

Still, as the cramping began to fade, as her fingers moved faster, as his hand shifted from her ass, to her lower back and then back again, before with a low growl and a slightly harder thrust, fisting in her hair, she couldn't deny the way her body was warming—the all too familiar pressure building in her gut.

"Oh God."

"That's a good girl…I'm going to make you come like this darling, on your hands and knees, my cock deep inside of you…and you're going to love it."

"Killian."

"Your fingers…" he grunted, stilling inside of her for a moment before slowly sliding out. "I want two fingers inside of you while I'm in your ass."

"Jesus."

She could hear the smirk in his voice, could feel the way his fingers tightened in her hair, forcing her head back ever so slightly. "It's still Killian darling…now fuck yourself."

_This_ was the man she craved.

She loved the man who showed her concern and tenderness, who looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. But this man, this dominating and demanding _pirate,_ was the man she more often than not found herself truly desiring.

"I said fuck yourself Emma."

And apparently the time for adjusting and going slow was truly over.

Shifting her fingers from her oversensitive clit, she quickly parted her wet folds, her breath coming out shaky as she slipped her fingers inside—an odd sensation running through her as she felt him moving against and inside her ass.

"Mmmmm that's it darling…can you feel me? Fucking you from behind while your fingers are inside yourself." His hand was suddenly all over her, seemingly everywhere at once—running through her hair, fondling her breasts, moving down to her ass to slap it lightly before tangling it back into her hair once again.

And holy shit; with the light smack, with the shallow thrusts, with her fingers moving in and out of her, curling into _that spot_ just right…she was suddenly so very _close._

She had almost abruptly gone form zero to sixty; only minutes ago she'd been unsure about the sensations, certain she couldn't take the stretch and burn, and now,_ now_ her body was nearly quivering with abrupt and desperate need.

And how the fuck had she gotten so close?

Maybe it was because she still thought of anal as slightly taboo, maybe it was because when with him, a part of her secretly loved to be dominated, maybe it was because she was just actually starting to enjoy it…regardless of the reason she could feel the beginnings of an orgasm start to creep up on her—the realization only causing the blood in her veins to run hotter, as her aching muscles throbbed around his pulsing length even tighter.

"Gods Emma I love having you like this…at my mercy. I could do whatever I wanted with you…and you know that don't you?" he rocked his hips against her deliberately, pushing deeper into her—the action causing her to stiffen slightly, a curse on the tip of her tongue "As much as you hate to admit it…you like it."

Yes.

No.

_Maybe._

"It makes you feel dirty doesn't it? Used…powerless…and Gods I think you actually like it."

"_Killian_."

"Bloody, fucking hell." His movements faltered slightly, the ache deep inside of her drowned out by her sudden need to feel _more_. "Come for me…come for me like the wanton and wicked woman you truly are…I want to feel you Emma."

God. Dammit.

The feel of him behind her, suddenly thrusting fast with seemingly no regard for her actual comfort, the way she felt as if she were stretched beyond the point of breaking, and the push and slide of her fingers frantically moving to keep up with his pace, all coupled with his harsh and growling words—something inside of her suddenly snapped. She felt herself fall, gripping him tightly and squeezing him ruthlessly as a hard and quick orgasm hit her fast.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god." She mouthed the words in a quiet chant, unable to scream, unable to moan, barely able to whisper, as she tightened around him—the feel of her climax only intensifying as her walls fluttered and clenched repeatedly around both her fingers and his still moving cock.

"Emma…"his voice sounded broken and pained and good God it was such a beautiful sound. "Darling…I'm…

And with a vicious curse, his fingers flew from her hair, drifting back down to her ass; squeezing lightly and kneading her skin, she felt him tense abruptly, heard him groan loudly, before with a muttered oath and a violent shudder he pulsed inside of her—the feel of his hot release filling her tight hole causing her to shiver and moan as she felt it run down her thighs in a wet and sticky trail.

_Holy fucking hell. _

It didn't take long before her legs and arms—trembling and weak—gave out on her; and with a quivering sigh, she collapsed onto the bed, the feel of him sliding out of her limply bringing a slight blush to her cheeks as she lazily attempted to push a damp lock of hair from her face, giving up with a mumbled curse and a roll of her eyes when it kept falling stubbornly back into place.

"Emma?"

Breathing heavy, her vision slightly hazy, ears still ringing faintly, she barely registered the sound of his voice calling to her, her face firmly planted into the pillows as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart.

_"Swan?"_

Noting the slight apprehension in his tone, she took another moment or two before acknowledging him; fairly certain, as her body welcomed the softness of the mattress, that she'd be perfectly content if she never had to leave their bed again. Lifting her head and shooting a look over her shoulder, she took in the sight of him. His hair slightly disheveled and eyes vibrantly blue and more than a little wild—shot a another jolt of desire straight through her as he looked at her with unmasked awe and and the remnants of unmistakable hunger.

_She loved him._

Goddammit did she love him.

Tilting her lips into a lazy smile, her heart finally starting to slow and her body feeling as though it was gradually going back to normal, she flipped onto her back and propped herself up onto her elbows. Staring at him somewhat deliberately, her legs falling open as she settled herself more comfortably on the bed, only dimly did she note the somewhat persistent soreness that lingered while faintly registering the wetness that still trailed between her thighs.

"Killian…" she murmured softly, the tone of her voice low and husky, sounding almost completely foreign to her still humming ears.

And it amazed her.

How the sound of his name on her lips could have his eyes flashing and a low growl escaping him almost threateningly.

And as he shot down to her, moving fast, she couldn't help the humored chuckle that tumbled from her in somewhat shocked amusement, the laugh turning into a muffled gasp followed by a breathy cry as his head quite suddenly disappeared between her thighs—his tongue darting out to lick and sooth as he nearly devoured her whole, his appetite for her seemingly insatiable.

And as she laid back, her eyes finding the ceiling as he worked her over tortuously slow, she couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this new kink was something she could thoroughly enjoy after all.

Maybe.

**End.**

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**Review :)  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Anonymous asked:**

_**drabble prompt: secret affair**_

***takes place is Neverland***

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It's wrong.

"This—this is the last time." she murmurs, her teeth nibbling on his lower lip lightly as they stumble clumsily through the thick line of trees—her fingers unsteady and trembling already working on the laces of his pants. "We—we gotta be quick." She tells him, her thighs clenching together in anticipation as she reaches inside to feel him already hard and pulsing and ready for her.

It's wrong.

She knows it is.

Neal is alive and well and back at the camp, desperate to find Henry and more than willing to give her everything she's never had.

Everything she's always wanted…

A family.

A home.

And even so, with the promise of _something more_ lingering in the distance, these little trysts with Hook have continued to happen—again and again _and again._ What had started as a quick and angry fuck on the heels of a heated argument has become much too frequent…much too routine…

Much too necessary.

It's wrong.

Her back hits a large boulder, the jolt of pain jarring her as he steps in between her legs—his lips finding the pulse point of her neck as his hand quickly busies itself between her open thighs. Jerking the zipper of her pants down, he parts her slick folds and pushes a finger into her fast; the feel of his lips curving into a smile against her skin as she lets out a strangled gasp, only fueling her already mounting desire.

It's so wrong.

Head falling back, breathing coming out heavy, she gives herself over to sensation only—half of her aware that Neal and her parents could stumble upon them at any moment, the other half refusing to care.

"So wet for me Swan, always so wet."

It's so goddamned wrong.

He pulls back suddenly, his fingers grasping her elbow somewhat painfully before turning her around quickly, forcing her to shoot her arms out so that she can brace herself against the rough boulder. Biting her lip, drawing blood and savoring the taste, she registers the feel of her pants being dragged down to her boots—the smooth tip of his cock nudging at her hot entrance impatiently. And with a moan on her lips, she closes her eyes, welcoming the stretch and burn, the pleasure and pain, when he places his hook on her lower back, angling her down and forcing her to bend over as he enters her from behind in one hard and ruthless thrust.

And she knows it's so fucking wrong.

But, as her walls squeeze him tightly, as he sets a fast and brutal pace, as his curses and grunts filter to her ears, as her body hums and buzzes and something sparking and hot begins to heat low in her belly, as the world around her begins to fade away…

She just can't bring herself to care.

**End.**

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	7. Chapter 7

**scarletsin asked:**

**_Prompt: Emma and Hook talk about the kiss where Emma tries to deny that she felt anything but it than leads to another one, this time initiated by Hook. May or may not lead to smut, the choice is entirely yours. And btw, love all your fics, keep 'em comin'. :)_**

**Prompt takes after 3x05 Good Form.  
**

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She was stupid.

So very, very stupid.

She was an idiot.

A moron.

So goddamned stupid.

_Two days._

It had only been two days since she had thrown caution to the wind and had kissed Hook.

Two days of avoiding him.

Two days of refusing to look him in the eye.

Two days of second-guessing.

Two days of frustration, anger, regret…

_Longing. _

Standing at the edge of the jungle, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted upwards, she gazed unblinkingly at the dark night sky, desperately attempting to think about anything else other than where her mind kept insisting on drifting to…_over and over and over again_. She could hear the dying fire snapping and crackling behind her, the dull orange glow illuminating the heavy line of trees in front of her as she shook her head slowly, almost as if the slight movement would chase away the unnecessary and unwanted thoughts that had invaded her brain. Sighing, she debated on turning in; the rest of the group was sleeping soundly, their travels that day and the day's prior taking its toll on them. And deep down she knew she should be resting, she knew it was important to give her body a break—Neverland proved to be more trying and more dangerous with each passing day.

But every time she closed her eyes she saw _him._

Felt him.

Tasted him.

It was unnerving.

And annoying.

"Ever going to stop avoiding me darling?"

_God hated her…there was no other explanation…he hated her.  
_

Closing her eyes at the sound of his voice, she groaned, her heart picking up in pace and a spark of _something _skittering across her skin. Almost all at once her body seemed to be on sensory overload—pulsing, tingling, waiting—and goddammit why wasn't he sleeping like the rest of them?

"Or do you plan on playing this game for the duration of our time in Neverland?"

"Go to bed Hook."

She could practically see the smirk on his face, could nearly picture the smug confidence in his step, could almost feel the heavy presence at her back as he moved closer and closer and closer….

He was suffocating.

_Intoxicating._

Hugging herself tightly and rubbing her hands up and down the length of her arms, she refused to turn to him, knowing that it was exactly what he wanted, aware it was something she might not be able to handle just yet…facing him…_alone._

"You'll not deny it then? That you've been avoiding me?" His voice was low and held the faintest note of mocking, his heavy lilt thicker than normal as the sounds of the lively jungle nearly drowned out his hushed words. "Refusing to look me in the eye, always making sure you're not found alone with me…." He shuffled even closer, she could feel the warmth of his body, could smell the scent of the sea. "I wonder why that is love, eh? Why do you seem so hellbent on keeping your distance? One would think something had occurred between us to bring on such an abrupt change in behavior."

_He was a sneaky son of bitch._

Tensing, her eyes drifting back up to the dark sky scattered brightly with dim moons, shining stars, and colorful far off planets, she raised a brow, her spine going rigid as she felt his body brush up against the back of hers—the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rising as a wave of goosebumps rushed down her arms and her pulse skidded to a halt before racing fast.

_Trouble._

_Danger._

"Listen buddy," stepping away from him, she cleared her throat, trying to gain some composure before slowly turning and finally looking at him; her gaze narrowing when she saw, as expected, that he was wearing his signature smirk and that his eyes, twinkling with the tiniest hint of mischief, were clouded by something that she couldn't quite place…something she didn't _want to_ place. "I've been avoiding you for exactly this reason." She gestured between them almost wildly, a scowl tugging at her lips as she took an unconscious step backwards, and then another, followed by another still—refusing to acknowledge the voices in her head that whispered _coward _in a hissing and harsh tones. "What happened…" she paused, her words faltering as she was suddenly bombarded by unwanted images—his lips moving against hers, her hands grasping at his coat, his fingers tangled in her hair. "That kiss was not—nothing, it was a mistake…it meant nothing okay? I've been avoiding you because I didn't want…" she huffed out a sigh, suddenly frustrated and a little more than pissed that he was so intent on forcing the issue. "_I don't know_…I didn't want you to get any ideas!"

_That sounded believable._

"Is that right?" He stepped forward once; his eyes cleared of their earlier mischief and replaced with something she could only pinpoint as steely resolve, the realization bringing a sinking feeling to her stomach as she leveled him with a wary stare. "Curious…quite curious actually sweetheart."

Disregarding the taunting tone of his voice and the heat of his gaze, she squared her shoulders, and straightened her spine, refusing to back down—dimly acknowledging the part of her that didn't want to, that craved the confrontation.

_Okay so they were doing this. _

She supposed they needed to get it out in the open anyway, the time for tiptoeing around it clearly was over. The quicker they both acknowledged that it meant nothing, that nothing would come of it, the sooner they could get back to concentrating on Henry, on Neverland…on going home.

"Look, let's be serious, neither of us are likely to back down to a challenge and…" she shrugged, resisting the urge to step back again when he moved towards her once more, a slightly predatory look gleaming in his eyes. "I'm not saying it wasn't…" Hesitating she tried to find the right word—her brain offering no help as she was suddenly forced to remember how weak kneed and thrown she had been immediately after. "I'm not saying it wasn't…_nice…_but at the end of the day it was just a kiss. It's no big deal." She swallowed, her fingers clenching into fists as he continued to slowly close the space between them, his eyebrows shooting upwards almost as if he was amused by her description of the kiss. "It was bound to happen…I won't lie and say it hadn't been building up—that I hadn't thought about it before…but now that it happened we can both just acknowledge it for what it was…a one time thing that meant nothing…we—we felt nothing." She blinked once, twice, a small frown pulling at her lips and her vision suddenly shadowed as he stepped into her personal space, his body brushing against hers as he closed in on her.

And she should really back away.

Why the hell weren't her legs moving?

_Why wasn't she pushing him away?_

"It meant nothing." She reaffirmed lamely, the words coming out breathier than she would have liked as she found her gaze flitting from his lips to his eyes and then back again—the air stifling and thick and all too hot.

_Move!_

"I think you're lying to yourself…" His voice was quiet, thoughtful even, and she barely registered when he lifted his good hand to tug on her hair lightly, brushing it behind her shoulders before allowing his fingers to linger near her cheek. "I think you're scared…and _that's_ why you've been avoiding me." He leaned in slightly with the last of his statement, his breath warm and smelling slightly of rum feathering across her lips in a gentle caress.

_God. Dammit._

She tried to smirk, tried to fall back on snark and wittiness and sarcasm but all she could muster up was a sharp intake of breath, her eyes, heavy lidded and somewhat hazy, dropping to his mouth once again. "You—you're wrong."

Her voice, wavering and shaky, screamed her lie.

And by the tilt of his lips, she realized with the vaguest hint of dread that…

He knew it.

And she should have seen it coming. In a way she had dared him—with her words, her denial, her blatant refusal to accept anything other than the truth. She should have known what he was after the moment the conversation had started.

He wanted to force her to _see._

He wanted to prove her wrong.

He wanted more.

And dammit she should have seen it coming.

But instead of picking up on his intent, blinded by his cockiness and too confident attitude, she had walked right into his well laid trap. So when his fingers moved from her cheek to snake behind her neck, wrapping around it tightly, she only stood rooted to her spot, completely thrown off guard and unable to move as he drew her head forward, his body shuffling closer to hers, so that they were pressed together with their foreheads touching lightly.

"I think darling, that you're the one who might be wrong."

His statement, quiet and simple, washed over her softly, hanging in the air as he paused—giving her a moment to absorb his meaning, allowing her a chance to run away.

To flee and never look back.

She stayed.

When his lips brushed hers—soft at first, a gentle barely there caress—she felt the tension that had wound itself around her all but drain away as her body betrayed her, almost immediately falling into his tender kiss. She hardly noticed the way he had wrapped his free arm around her waist to draw her even nearer, his hook pressing against her hip lightly as he kissed her more deeply. She barely registered the way her hands had drifted up to his collar without thought, her fingers fisting into his coat, pulling him even closer. Instead she could only concentrate on the feel of his lips, the way they moved slow, _so slow_, over hers—his teeth nipping at her once demanding entrance to her mouth, his tongue gently moving against hers when she immediately opened for him in response. More than a little dazed, feeling as if the world had just bottomed out on her, while a fire burned in her veins, she bit back a moan as he swept in lazily again and again—the taste of rum and something uniquely him invading her senses.

And as she felt their bodies press together even harder, muscled leather meeting her too sharp and poorly concealed curves, she dimly acknowledged the voice in her head that begged her to put a stop to it, even while something hot and dangerous began to roar to life deep inside of her.

Passion.

Lust.

Need.

_She wanted more._

And just as she was about to grasp onto the idea, to take hold of it and embrace it tightly, he broke the kiss, lifting his head back from her somewhat suddenly. His mouth dragged from hers—his teeth scraping her lightly, his tongue shooting out to soothe—before he pulled away completely; the sound of a low growl vibrating in his throat sending sparks of desire shooting straight to her very core. And for a moment, as his lips hovered over hers and their heavy and panting breaths mingled, she could barely place a coherent thought, her entire body buzzing, the blood in her veins nearly humming as the fire continued to burn.

"Well," He swallowed once, his eyes on her lips and the muscles in his jaw working as he gradually put more space between them—removing his hook from her waist and detangling his fingers from her hair. Stepping back from her, he licked his lips in a move that was nothing short of deliberate; and somewhat numb and undeniably dazed, she could only let her weak arms fall limply to her side as he moved away slowly. "I suppose you're right darling…" His eyes finally meeting hers, the blue there no less vibrant and challenging than before, held her stare unblinkingly. "Nothing there…nothing at all."

The tone of his voice betrayed his lie.

The gleam in his eyes told her that he knew.

Without another word—no arrogant smirk, no lingering look, no taunting pet names—he turned away from her, the loss of his warmth immediately registering on her suddenly chilled and tingling skin as he stepped around her and leisurely made his way back towards the camp,

_Good. God._

Blowing out a shuddering breath, she blinked as his figure disappeared into the shadows; her body alive with sensations and her lips burning from his kiss as she tried in vain to wrap her mind around what the hell had just happened…around what she was feeling…around what she had been denying.

_What she was still denying._

Her stare still fixated in the direction he had headed, she raised shaky and unsteady fingers to her nearly trembling lips, brushing them, once, twice, before closing her infuriatingly stinging and heavy eyes. And suddenly exhausted she felt her shoulders slump slightly as she tried, almost desperately, to push the entire world away.

She was stupid.

So very very stupid.

**End.**

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**Review?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Tumblr prompt:**

_**emmaaswaan said: emma sneaks into his tent and they have to keep quiet.**_

**AU after the kiss smutty one-shot. M-content ahead! :)**

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_That kiss._

The night was hot…warmer than usual.

The sounds of the jungle settling around their makeshift camp created a dull and almost soothing soundtrack as swaying leaves, chirping birds, and the cry and low purr of beasts on the hunt sounded softly in the distance.

She couldn't sleep.

She couldn't think.

There was too much on her mind.

_That stupid kiss. _

Moving quickly, her eyes scanning the flimsy tents around her, she took in the sight of her parents sleeping forms while noting the quiet sound of Regina's steady and even breathing as she passed her by. Her gaze zeroing in on the tent that was set up at the furthest point of their camp at the very edge of the jungle, Emma closed her eyes for a moment and sucked in a deep breath before heading over to it, not giving herself a chance to reconsider her actions.

_That stupid, stupid kiss._

Ducking under the low hanging cover of the crudely made tent, her gaze landed on Hook's resting figure. Quietly drawing even closer, she curiously studied his unmoving and somewhat peaceful form; her eyes struggling to adjust to the unyielding darkness, blinked rapidly once, twice, and the sound of her pounding heart echoed softly in her already buzzing ears as she watched him silently for a moment more.

She should really go…she should really turn around and flee.

_RUN! _

A voice screamed the command in her head.

_Stay._

Another whispered softly after.

And not allowing herself the chance to over think it any further, she knelt down quickly, her movement causing the air to stir around them as she shifted on the ground beside him.

And really, she probably should have expected it…

The world suddenly spun, tilted, and faded away, the feeling of being tossed onto her back sending a jolt of pain up her spine as the heavy press of a knife at her throat and a hook in her side nearly stole all of the air from her lungs. Blowing out a shaky breath, her hands grappling at the dirt beneath her, she lifted her chin and gazed up into Hook's clouded and confused eyes, watching as his hazy stare slowly focused in on her face.

"Swan?" his sleep-roughened voice breathed out across her lips, the gentle caress against her skin nearly causing her to shudder as his grip on her relaxed fractionally, his hook easing up on her ever so slightly.

And watching as awareness slowly crossed his features, seeing the realization gradually dawn in his eyes, she took a moment to calm her racing pulse while attempting to steady her erratic and labored breathing.

They were too close.

He was practically lying on top of her—his body warm and firm and all too familiar was pressed into hers.

_And fuck that stupid, stupid kiss._

Once again, much like the first time she had kissed him, she refused to think it through. Raising her head quickly, she ignored the stinging pinch of pain as his dagger pressed further into her skin. Snaking her hand behind his head, she drew him down to her and kissed him for the second time that day—her lips quirking slightly as she heard his sharp intake of breath, followed by a low grunt and the dull thud of his dagger dropping to the ground beside her. Using his surprise to her advantage, she rolled them, gaining control quickly and settling herself on top of him—the feel of his arousal straining through his pants and prodding against her stomach, making her dizzy with anticipation, even as shrill and shrieking warnings bells rang in her ears.

_She had never wanted this before that goddamned kiss…never admitted to it anyway._

"Don't talk." She whispered against his lips, her hands already working the buttons of his shirt, tugging it off quickly before moving her fingers lower. "You have to be quiet."

He didn't say anything at that; merely lifted his hips when she pulled his pants down fast with fumbling and faltering movements. And she was glad he didn't speak, thrilled actually. Silence was good…perfect…_necessary._ She wasn't sure she could go through with it if he had tried to talk to her, or question her, or even worse…reassure her. She just needed this. _Action._ No words, no gentle declarations, no well intended coddling. It was the feel of skin against skin that she truly craved at the moment.

_Something she hadn't needed until that friggin eye-opening kiss._

Feeling his hand coming to a rest at the small of her back, her thoughts scattered and her eyes flew to his, watching as his lips quirked up softly when he lifted the hem of her shirt slowly, indicating for her to pull it up over her head. Taking the lead again, she nodded once, hurriedly ridding herself of the dirty camisole—her pants and boots quickly following before she tossed them to the side and slid her way back up him. Straddling him, she noted with a dim sense of satisfaction the way his body tensed and his breathing stuttered as she caged him in.

"This is seriously just a—"

"One time thing." His tone, barely above a whisper, called her bluff as his eyes flashed with challenge, and his jaw went rigid with a look that too closely resembled disbelief.

And unable to consider the note in his voice and the all too knowing expression blanketing his features—something inside of her sparking to life and whispering _lie—_she covered her mouth with his; both annoyed and relieved by the way he didn't question her once again. Instead he only responded; no gentlemanly acts of concern stopping him from taking his fill. _And good God the man could kiss._ He tried to take his time with her— his teeth nipping at her lightly, his tongue soothing where he had nibbled, his lips sucking and drawing her to him.

_And dammit she could get lost…kissing him._

"We don't have time for anything else." She pulled back abruptly, breathing the words across his face; her body trembling and warm as she suddenly reached between them, placing her hand around his pulsing and already rock hard length—vaguely noticing the way it seemed to jump to life against her fingers as she stroked him gently.

"Swan…"

"We have to be quick and quiet."

And before he could say anything else, before he had the chance to deny her of _this_, she lifted her hips, took in a deep breath, and impaled herself onto his hard and throbbing cock—the length of him easily sliding past her already wet folds as she forced herself all the way down.

Pain.

Burning Pain.

It hurt.

God it hurt.

_And she wanted more._

It took everything in her not to moan out loud, a soft whimper escaping her lips as her body struggled to adjust to his size— the feeling of him vibrating between her thighs nearly too much to take as sparking sensations danced their way across her skin and something liquid and hot pooled in her belly.

It was almost too much.

Almost.

Knowing their time was limited, that the others were nearby and could wake up at any second, she braced her hands on his tight and lightly muscled chest, dug her nails into the skin there and began to move, riding him and chasing the pleasure tinged ache that was slowly building inside of her.

_And god she couldn't stop…and it was all because of that stupid kiss._

She moved over him hard and fast, her breathing coming out in short little pants, one hand still planted on his chest, searching for purchase, as her other traveled up her taut and quivering stomach— her spine arching, her breasts bouncing and her hair swinging loosely.

She could only imagine the wanton and shameless image she painted.

She could barely bring herself to care.

Faintly, over the sounds of the jungle around them and the soft noises tumbling from her lips, she could hear his broken and hushed grunts drifting up to her—the feel of his hand and hook digging into her hips as he gripped her roughly and pushed himself further into her causing a jolt and spike of heat to shoot through her veins. Biting back a moan, her free hand finding its way to her nipple to pinch and pull, she stilled her movements, allowing him to take over and thrust upwards, slamming himself in and out of her again and again and again, forcing her to bounce wildly on top of him.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god" she mouthed the words silently, her eyes drifting downwards when his good hand suddenly shifted from her hip to her clit, the feel of his fingers dancing over her, rough and unforgiving, nearly doing her in—pressure, _so much pressure_, mounting inside of her with the harsh and unrelenting caress.

"I…"

"So wet for me Emma."

Oh.

God.

She was.

_Oh God she was._

His cock was slick with her juices, the evidence of her arousal coating their thighs as she began riding him again, taking over once more.

"That's a good girl…fuck me…just like that."

He couldn't talk like that. He wasn't allowed to talk like that. Hearing him talk like that made her want to crawl her way inside of him, made her need more, made her want to ride him faster and fuck him harder.

"Shut up." She hissed the words, bending down so that her hair covered his chest, creating a pale gold curtain across them. Her lips just inches from his, she gasped—the sudden change in angle bringing him deeper into her. "Just…just shut up…you have to be quiet…you'll wake them."

He merely smiled at her words, a flash of bright white teeth—his expression somewhat smug, his grin undeniably devastating. And unable to take the knowing and arrogant smirk, she bent forward and captured his lips with hers; their tongues, dueling and possessive, battling with each other as she began to grind herself on him more furiously—the friction against her clit, the feel of him moving inside of her pushing her closer and closer to that looming edge.

It shouldn't feel this good.

It was a quick fuck.

I shouldn't feel this goddamned good.

_That fucking, fucking kiss._

Swearing when his good hand moved up her body to tangle in her hair as he gained control of their kiss, she held her breath—the sounds of sticks breaking and someone stirring only driving on her desire as she struggled to keep quiet.

"Come for me darling." He breathed the words against her lips before kissing her deeply again, grunting when she shifted her angle. Her hips bucking faster, she chased her pleasure almost frantically—the sound of her pants and whimpers swallowed by his kiss.

She wanted to listen to him.

She wanted to come.

She felt as though she'd die if she didn't soon.

She needed it to be over.

The emotions she'd been trying so hard to deny since their stupid kiss were slowly sneaking up on her—hinting of lasting and refusing to go away. The longer they stayed joined together, the longer she allowed herself to be reckless and thoughtless, the harder it was to lose herself to feeling and sensation only—the promise of something more lingering in the back of her brain, threatening to make its way to her damaged and too fragile heart.

"I want to feel you. Come for me Emma."

Maybe it was because she was so tightly wound.

Maybe it was because it was so very wrong.

Maybe it was because she was suddenly feeling vulnerable and lost.

Maybe it was just because she knew they could be caught at anytime.

But the orgasm that took over her was blinding, her vision blackening out almost completely as it wracked her body mercilessly—the pleasure the most intense she had felt in weeks, months, years…

_Ever._

It seemed to drag on forever, silent sobs falling from her lips as her entire body tensed on top of him, before shaking almost uncontrollably. Her walls clenching and gripping him tightly, the way he used her climax to his advantage to thrust into her, once, twice, before finding his own release only drawing out the intensity of her own seemingly endless pleasure as he pulsed warm inside of her before hotly leaking down her thighs.

_Too much._

_It was too damned much._

She wasn't sure how long it was before she caught her breath and came back to earth—seconds, minutes, hours…an eternity. Her limbs, shaky and weak, felt boneless as she pushed herself off of him quickly, the panicked voices in her head suddenly roaring to life as she stared down at his disheveled and thoroughly sated form.

_She was an idiot. _

"That was…I…um…" she swallowed over the lump in her throat, biting back her stuttering words, and refusing to acknowledge his deep sigh of contentment as he stretched leisurely on the ground at her feet.

And unsure what else to say—not with him acting so damn nonchalant and pleased—she shuffled away from him grabbing her clothes and hurriedly throwing them on, struggling with her boots and avoiding his burning stare as he laid quietly, apparently perfectly content with making no move to stop her from running.

_And God she hated herself for even kissing him in the first place._

When she was dressed, when the realization of what she had done had settled itself heavily upon her, gnawing at her gut and echoing loudly in her brain, she turned to him, squaring her shoulders and composing her face into a mask of cool composure.

_Get your walls up Swan._

_No emotion. _

"Breathe a word of this…" she paused her eyes narrowing when he shifted on the ground beneath her, placing his hook and hand behind his head and lounging back with the expression of a man well satisfied. Sighing—her lips raw from his kisses, her thighs trembling slightly, her body more than a little sore—she leveled him with an even glare. "Just don't say anything."

And turning from him, she made a move to leave, nearly groaning when she heard him sit up behind her, the sound of his voice, saying her name softly causing her to hesitate.

"Swan." His voice was quiet and faltered only slightly as he paused briefly, "this was _not_ a one time thing." His tone, gentle and barely above a whisper held nothing but honest and sure conviction as he allowed his words a moment to sink in.

And God…

He was right.

And she hated him for it.

Or at least she wanted to anyway.

And unable to face him, unable to consider his statement, unable to even try to dissect the raging and chaotic emotions that were suddenly bombarding her brutally…

She left his tent.

Her legs wobbly and weak carried her quietly across the campsite as her thoughts consumed her and the lingering taste of him on her tongue and the phantom feel of his touch on her skin, taunted her mercilessly—the images flashing in her head threatening to remain there as a constant reminder of what had happened between them.

_Trouble._

She was in so much trouble.

Casting her eyes over at her parents sleeping figures, taking comfort in the fact that Regina's breathing was still steady and even, she shuffled back to her tent, refusing to even chance a look behind her as she laid down quickly on the hard and unforgiving ground. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to shut off her brain, attempting to forget what she had just done, blocking out the still sensitive feeling that lingered between her thighs.

And shifting, moving onto her side, she glanced up at the vast Neverland sky, taking in the breathtaking sight of the millions of stars that twinkled and shone brightly above; her breathing coming in quicker as she suddenly and without warning saw herself in her mind's eyes riding Hook, his expression a mixture of pleasure, disbelief and pain, as he gripped her tightly and grunted softly; the image replaying over and over in her head—her thighs clenching together, her fingers twitching lightly and a soft groan of frustration escaping her lips.

_And God she'd never, never, forgive herself for that stupid, stupid, stupid kiss…_

**_END._**

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**_Reviews? ;)  
_**


	9. Chapter 9

**Tumblr prompts:**

_**Hook or Emma experience a fatal injury that even True Loves kiss can't heal.**_

**and**

_**Last kiss scenario.**_

**Angst ahead!**

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"Killian."

She breathes his name softly, her legs nearly giving out on her as she stumbles and falls to the ground near the trees he had suddenly appeared at before collapsing in place. Kneeling beside him, she takes in his bruised and battered form, her vision blurring slightly as the threat of hot and angry tears prick at her eyes—the burning dampness a mocking reminder of her ever developing feelings for the man laying in a heap next to her.

He had saved him.

_Henry. _

After weeks of ups and downs, victories and losses she had finally begun to lose hope—Pan's games constantly changing, the rules consistently in his favor.

Until three days ago.

Hook had disappeared

Sneaking away from the group in the middle of the night, the pirate had left them. Had left her. And in his place, he had sent her son back to her. The boy had showed up suddenly and without warning, dirty and confused but unharmed—rambling about how _Captain Hook_ had kidnapped him from Pan's camp, shoving a map and a vial of stolen pixie dust in his hands before hissing at him to run, telling him that his mother was waiting for him—the map leading Henry back to her, the pixie dust their key to going home.

Hook had stayed behind, distracting and fighting off Pan's rag-tag army.

He had saved Henry.

And the cost had only been his life.

The fool.

His face is barely recognizable, open cuts and deep scratches litter his skin, marring his features and shadowing his beauty. She can see the knife wound in his stomach—the blood seeping from his middle mingles with the dirt caked onto his clothes to form a muddied crimson pool on the ground beside him.

"Pan's dead."

She doesn't ask any questions, doesn't really register his murmured statement as he struggles for air in front of her; the lingering presence of her family at her back—Mary Margaret, David, Henry, Neal—stopping her from screaming out the inner anguish that is clawing its way inside of her, even as her mind is unable to truly wrap itself around the sight she is seeing.

And God she hates him at that moment.

"It was easy you know."

His voice, soft and raspy, pulls her from her hazy fog and raising her eyes to meet his, she watches his lips quirk up slightly as his eyes, glassy and unfocused, meet hers—the watery and dim blue replacing their usual vivid brightness.

"Killing Pan?" she asks, her teeth finding her lower lip as she unthinkingly grabs for his hand, the coolness of his skin shocking her as she holds it in her lap, the feel of tears continuing to well in her eyes barely noticeable as something heavy settles itself deep in her gut.

"No." he coughs once, the sputtering sound nearly drowned out by the wheezing rattle in his chest, his body convulsing slightly as a tremor ripples through him.

Her eyes drifting to his wound realization sinks in slowly—the poison there is working quicker than the dreamshade they had dealt with when David had been nicked with the potentially fatal toxin. And she knows, through whispers she had picked up on between Hook and Tinkberbell, that if this poison had come from Pan's dagger there is no cure…it's different from dreamshade or any other poison out there…no magic will heal it, no kiss will break its lethal curse.

It's final.

And it's moving fast.

He's fading quickly.

"Then what was easy?" she asks him needing the distraction as she shifts even closer—part of her wanting to yell at him, part of her wanting to comfort him, part of her wanting to run away fast.

"Choosing you."

She pauses at that, her heart stopping for a moment, her breath catching, her eyes widening. "I—"

"I'd do it again…in a heartbeat. Choose you, go with you, save Henry, I'd even—"

"Die?" the question is bitter, her tone soft and harsh.

His eyes narrow fractionally; a somewhat apologetic look crosses his features before he nods slightly—the small movement seemingly taking a massive amount of effort. "If it meant saving you." His voice is gentle—the truth in his words jarring and genuine.

And it's with that statement that the dam finally breaks.

She doesn't try to stop the tears as they trail down her face, hot and branding and damning. Giving into the urge that has been gnawing at her since she had first seen his injured form clearing the trees, she leans over and practically throws her body over his. Weeping quietly she pays no attention to his fatal wound, she disregards the fact that she could be hurting him, she ignores the blood that flows between them, she even forgets the audience at her back. Resting her forehead against his, she closes her eyes briefly, willing the world away, before opening them again, her heart breaking slowly as she looks into his searching gaze—his stare reflecting everything that she had spent a lifetime looking for.

And even seeing it, clear as day, she hesitates.

She won't whisper words of unwavering commitment, of undying devotion, of unbreakable love

Because she can't.

_She doesn't love him. _

But it's not lost on her that she was close.

That she could have.

That she would have.

Had she been given the chance.

And with the thought ringing in her ears, the realization coursing throughout her, the piercing awakening settling itself inside of her, she places her lips over his dry and chapped ones. Smiling sadly against him, her kiss, soft and barely there, lingers only for a moment as he struggles with his last breaths—the poison stealing him fast. Despair weighing heavily on her shoulders, she says the only thing that comes to her mind, the only honest words she can allow herself to speak as he fades away from her, leaving her just like everyone else.

"I would have chosen you too." she breathes, kissing him gently once more, before she allows grief to consume her and pushes away from him slowly.

With her kiss the last thing he registers, he dies with a smile on his lips and a peaceful expression on his face and as he slips away from her, she's fairly certain that he takes with him her ability to ever truly open herself up to love again.

**End**

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	10. Chapter 10

**_Tumblr prompt: Sexy times with the ladder in Killian's cabin._**

_A/N: I didn't even realize there was a ladder in the cabin, totally missed that last week, until it was brought to my attention, this is just a light piece, nothing angsty...promise.  
_

_Also, thanks so much for your reviews and your prompts, I do read all of them but I'm a spaz so many times I don't get to them, that being said please feel free to send them...sometimes the oddest ones strike my fancy...i.e.-ladder prompt._

**Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT.**

**SMUT AHEAD!**

**PLEASE REVIEW! :)**

* * *

Fucking…

_Pirate._

"No Killian."

"Hmmm?"

"Goddammit. No. Just no…we are not…no…I don't have time…_absolutely not_."

He's crowding her. Forcing her to shuffle backwards as he leisurely stalks her; amusement shining in his eyes, his grin slow and somewhat infuriating as he licks his lips lazily, making a blatant show of running his tongue over his teeth—the move both deliberate and obvious.

_The sneaky son of a bitch._

"I'm going to be late."

"Are you?" Shrugging out of his coat, she watches, unable to tear her eyes away from him, as the leather slides off his shoulders and onto the ground, landing in a heap behind him as he continues to move even closer—clear intent now glimmering in his stare.

"You really are a bastard." she hisses the words out softly, the hint of a smile that tugs her mouth upwards causing the statement to fall flat as her back comes into contact with something hard and rigid. Sparing a glance over her shoulder, lips smoothing and then pursing tightly, she raises a brow at the ladder resting directly behind her, her attention snapping back to him when she hears the floorboards creak under his weight, his movements nearly predatory.

"Am I?" his voice holds a note of humor, his tone low and smooth as silk, a dangerous and frightening combination, something they're both aware she's had trouble resisting in the past.

"Yes…I-I told you…I don't have time for this." She murmurs quietly, _weakly,_ fingers reaching behind her to grasp at the ladder's side rails—a small attempt to steady herself.

"Time for what darling?" his smile widens, stretching from flirty to downright devastating—his teeth flashing white, his bright eyes undeniably hungry.

"Don't play dumb…I have to meet Mary Margaret for dinner…" she whispers it in a defeated tone, her voice trailing off and her eyes fluttering closed as he slowly steps up to her, forcing her to shift slightly—her back pressing hard against the wooden rungs.

"Oh?"

His scent invading her—warm and spicy with a hint of the sea—the familiar smell bringing a slew of heated images to the forefront of her brain, she leans heavily against the ladder, a small whimper escaping her lips as he ducks his head to nip at her neck, focusing on her pulse point for a moment before lazily tracing his mouth up to nibble at her jaw.

"I—I promised her dinner and…and I should go and—"

"So leave…" he mumbles the words into her skin, the low rumble vibrating against her as his good hand moves down between them, rubbing her hotly through her jeans—licks of desire sparking through her as a small moan bubbles up from her throat.

Leave?

Now?

_Fat-fucking-chance._

"Goddammit Killian." Self control fading fast, fingers fisting into his hair, she draws him up; and scowling at the smug smile that stretches across his face, she brings him in for a kiss, breath panting out airily as he rocks his hips into hers. "Pirate," she whispers softly, _affectionately_, before slipping her tongue into his mouth. And sweeping the contours hungrily, greedily, her body tenses as his fingers begin to undo the button of her pants, a shudder dancing up her spine as he flicks it open and moves to tug her zipper down impatiently.

God he makes her weak.

Makes want to lose control.

And she wants to hate it…

But she loves it.

_She fucking loves it._

Yanking her jeans and underwear down around her hips, his hand quickly comes back to cup her, stroking her wet folds; a smirk lighting his features at her soft and muffled gasp.

"So wet Emma." Breaking their kiss, he says it quietly, the fact obviously pleasing him as he slips one long and slender ringed finger into her—her purr of satisfaction at the feeling whispering between them. "Always so wet for me…" pumping in and out of her slowly, curving into her just right, he chuckles darkly at her panted gasp before adding another finger, stretching and filling her, the sensation causing her footing to falter slightly. "Always so ready."

And dammit she wants to answer him, _deny him,_ possibly throw a smart retort back at him, a part of her desperate to knock his ego down a few notches in the process. But before she has the chance, before she can remind herself she's supposed to be meeting _her mother_ in less than twenty minutes, he's pulling back from her—his fingers slipping out of her, and his mouth kicking up into a knowing grin at her soft whine of protest.

"Turn around darling…"

"I have to go…"

"Do you?"

_"Yes_."

It doesn't sound the least bit convincing, she _knows_ it doesn't; not with the way her tone wavers and her body shifts towards his ever so slightly.

"Emma…" his lilting voice practically sings her name, the sound doing ridiculous thing to her insides, as his breath fans out across her face. "I'm going to fuck you now."

Eyes widening slowly, she shoots her gaze up to him, just barely getting a chance to read the look of desire that flashes in his blue stare before he's spinning her around and forcing her to face the ladder, her hands flying out in front of her to grasp onto the rungs as his hook and fingers dig into her pants forcing them down past her hips to pool near her boots.

"Killian…"

"Back up and spread your legs a little for me darling." His voice is gruff, his hook drawing up her slowly to rest at the base of her spine. Applying light pressure, the heavy steel digging into her skin, he forces her to bend over—her ass bared before him, wet heat blossoming between her thighs. "That's a good girl, just like that."

"You're an ass."

"And you love it." Leaning over, his breath ghosting across her neck, she can feel his straining arousal, can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks next. "Don't fret darling…you'll come quick…I plan on taking you hard and fast…been bloody thinking about it all day."

_Good Christ. _

A slight shuffle behind her, she places the telltale sound of his pants rustling, can feel his body moving against her; recognizes the fast pump of his fist as he readies himself for her, before, with a muffled grunt, he nudges his cock between her slick folds, the feel of him teasing and rubbing her causing her legs to tremble traitorously.

"_Oh God_…"

His laugh is a dark and husky sound, his body tight and taut behind her and—

And _Jesus Christ_ how the hell did she go from telling him she had dinner plans to…

_This? _

Stupid. Fucking. Pirate.

"Hold on tight sweetheart."

He doesn't say anything else; his hips rocking backwards a little before surging forward, he thrusts in deep, pushing her body into the ladder, her fingers digging into the rungs as he pulls out only to slam right back in—his pace fast and brutal and_ almost_ too much. Sudden and unrelenting pressure coiling tight inside of her, she closes her eyes as he curses low under his breath and drives himself into her—the burn and stretch a familiar and welcoming feeling as she rocks her hips back greedily.

"Gods Emma but you're a wanton thing." His good hand digs into her hips a little more, fingers most likely bruising as his hook continues to rest on her back, the smooth metal cooling her near burning skin. "That weak attempt at resistance…have you been craving it too? A good and decent fuck? My cock deep inside of you?"

"Shut-up." She barely manages to ground out the words as he shifts the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly, pushing in deeper, hitting her in a spot that causes sparks to light behind her closed eyelids—white-hot fire kindling deep in her belly.

And God, with her pants shoved down to her ankles, upper body completely clothed, ass pushing against him again and again, as her head tilts towards the ceiling and her hair spills down her red leather jacket, words—indecipherable sounds—tumbling from her lips, she can only imagine the picture she must make, what she must look like to him at that moment.

"Just shut-up." She murmurs again, her fingers tightening their hold on the rungs as he pushes forward hard, the smack and slide of their bodies coming together causing her to whimper and moan, the feel of his cock hitting her deep, his balls slapping against her in turn with his rhythm nearly doing her in.

"I can feel you Emma." His voice is taunting, his accent rougher than normal. "I can actually feel you…you're so close already…so bloody close."

Cursing him under her breath, one hand leaving the ladder to snake down her body; she shudders involuntarily as she finds her clit, the simple touch causing her to pant somewhat desperately—his thrusts driving deeper, harder, a little less controlled. Eyes fluttering open, vision hazy and unfocused, she begins to rub herself furiously, needing relief from the unforgiving tension that has wound itself so tightly inside of her.

"That's a good girl, touch yourself for me. Rub yourself like you do when I'm not around to fuck you."

"Oh God." Her fingers slip and falter before regaining their pace, his words washing over her darkly, causing her thighs to clench and her eyes to screw closed once again.

"That's it…I want you to come on my cock Emma." He slams into her hard, jarring her against the ladder, jolting her with the force and nearly causing her to lose her balance in the process. "Come nice and hard for me…I want to feel it."

"Fuck."

And with the moaned word, coupled with another fast and hard thrust, his hook moving from her back to trail down her ass before settling low on her hip, she feels her walls tighten around him, her fingers slipping against her clit, before with another muffled curse and a hitched breath, she comes around him, clenching and unclenching again and again as wave after wave of fast and unyielding pleasure hits her hard—his name sobbed out on a broken moan, her grip on the ladder faltering slightly.

And as she comes, as her orgasm weakens her stance and shoots her senses into overdrive, she feels him, through the haze of her ecstasy, tangle his good hand into her hair, forcing her head further back; his hook biting into her skin once again before with a groan and a stifled curse he pulls out of her fast. Her body protesting the loss, her sex clouded brain fogged with confusion, her bewilderment slowly melts away into dawning understanding as he turns her to face him. Hooked hand resting on her shoulder, he pushes her down, forcing her onto her knees—the position more than a little uncomfortable with her boots and pants still bunched at her feet.

And Jesus, God, _Christ_, she's just barely come down from her own high.

Still, with a wicked smile lighting his features, she doesn't resist him when takes his cock into his good hand and places it against her lips, a murmur of appreciation humming in his throat when she readily opens up for him, hungrily taking him in. The taste of herself on him, the way he rocks his hips against her face, thrusting in and out of her and fucking her mouth, the feel of his hand fisted tightly in her hair, and the sound of the filthy and somewhat degrading things that spill desperately from his lips, it all makes her feel so dirty and sexy and she can't help but moan around him; her hand moving down of its own accord to where she's still wet and sensitive and aching for him. Burying her fingers inside of herself, she takes him in deeper, nearly gagging as he brushes the back of her throat, loving the way his voice roughens and his curse echoes throughout the room as she moves her free hand to his balls, cupping him lightly.

And with the action, the light touch seemingly doing him in, he chokes out her name before with a shudder and a groan he comes inside her mouth, spurting and pulsing deep into her throat, his hold on her head forcing her to swallow every bit of him as his grunt of release drifts to her ears.

When they're both spent, her limbs weak and her body sated, she draws her mouth away from him slowly, a tiny trail of cum dribbling down her chin as, still on her knees, unable to really move let alone properly stand, she glances up at him with dazed and glassy eyes, noting with a dim sense of satisfaction that he looks just as wrecked as she feels—hair sticking up where she had run her fingers through it, pants hanging loosely around his hips, chest heaving with labored breaths. Smirking softly, contentedly, she watches with a tilt of her head as he slowly, lazily, tucks himself back into his pants before, with a satisfied smile and light humor dancing in his eyes, he offers her his hand.

"Come now love, isn't there somewhere you were supposed to be?"

* * *

Another weak attempt at leaving, followed by a vague text, and five missed calls later, Emma collapses naked onto the bed, her legs shaking and arms heavy as Kilian lays next to her on his stomach, burying his face into the pillows with a muffled oath—a deep sigh escaping his lips as he indulges in a long and languid stretch.

And God she can't remember her body ever feeling so deliciously used—images of his head buried between her thighs, the look on his face as she had crawled on top of him and rode him hard and fast, and the way he had thrown her legs over his shoulders before driving into her relentlessly, flashing before her eyes.

Shifting slightly, and breaking her from her brief reverie, Killian reaches out, the small bed not really allowing her to resist as he pulls her closer, tucking her into his side. And feeling exhaustion begin to creep up on her, her brain sleepy and her body sated, she gives into him without struggle, letting herself nestle further into him, ignoring the low rumble of his somewhat surprised chuckle as she throws a leg over him, hugging him even closer.

She's never really been one to cuddle before.

But then again, she's never really been one to stand up a friend…err…_mother._..for mind-blowing sex before either.

"Fucking pirate."

And as she feels his lips dust across her hair before stretching into a wide smile at her sleepy and somewhat weak insult, she shakes her head with a quiet and slightly defeated sigh, unable to muster up the strength to feel even a little disappointed in herself as the brush of his fingers tracing idle patterns onto her skin and the steady and even beat of his heart lulls her into a lazy and contented sleep…

_**End.**_

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