For PopcultureSalad-let the fluff off begin! This will be a two shot-I'll earn the M rating in part two cross my heart

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Killian stumbled into the bar, his shipmates ushering him on. Head held low, much like a dog who was skittish around crowds, an animal that had not been treated kindly by people. No, Killian did not like crowds, or pubs. His life as a deckhand was one where his time was best spent keeping his nose out of other's business. But Smee had insisted that Killian join them tonight. They had accomplished a particularly good raid on one of the royal cargo ships, and Captain Blackbeard was in one of his more generous moods.

So, here Killian was, trying to stay out of his shipmate's way as they drank and enjoyed the charms of the women.

He was perfectly content sitting at the far back table, nursing his goat's milk when she appeared before him.

Not in all of Killian's years had he seen a more beautiful lass. Her hair was the color of summer sunshine, her eyes twin emerald gems framed with dark lashes. Her mouth was curved in a teasing smile as she maneuvered through the crowded pub. Killian couldn't bring himself to look away from her.

She moved gracefully through the throng of merrymakers-until one man reared back from his seat, the chair colliding into her side and sending her back.

Killian moved with a speed that amazed himself, his arms coming around the lass and anchoring her to him. The contact of her body against him sent a fire through his veins, his heart thudding hard in his chest when her arms came around him, clutching his shoulders almost desperately.

His breath is stolen from him the moment her eyes meet his. With so little space between them, he could see the flecks of gold and brown in her eyes, like sunbursts.

"H-hello," he manages after what felt like a century of silence stretching between them. "A-are you-?"

"Breathe, pirate," she teased as she smoothed her hands over his chest.

The lingering touch left Killian's mouth dry as he tried to rid himself of the cobwebs clouding his mind.

"Are you all right, lass," he managed at last.

"No worse for ware," she smiled as she slowly-dare he say reluctantly?-pulled away from him. "You're pretty quick on your feet-"

"Jones, Killian Jones." He said quickly with an awkward bow of his head. "I'm a deckhand aboard the Jolly Roger."

"Pleasure," she grinned flashing white teeth. "How about you buy me a drink and tell me more about yourself?"

Killian somehow through the erratic beating in his chest manages to say yes and order her whatever drink she wants-rum as luck would have it. She swallows the lot of it in one quick swallow, bringing her cup down on the wooden table with a seductive sweep of her tongue over her ripe lips.

"You aren't having any?"

"Allergic," he explained bashfully, ears reddening at his confession. Who the bloody hell admitted to being allergic to rum?

Her answer was a light chuckle as she refilled her cup. "You are not like the other sailors, Mr. Jones."

"So I've been told," he said as he dared to look at her. Gods, she was stunning. "Why . . . . "

"Yes?" she asked, leaning forward, her green eyes shining with an impish light.

"Why are you paying me, a lowly deckhand with your charms, milady?"

The smile that touches her face is neither flirtatious nor seductive-it's pure and genuine.

"Because you treat me like a lady; not another bar wench. And I have a name," she said her smile curving into a smirk.

"What is it?"

"Emma," she answered.

Emma. It was simple, yet to Killian it was the most beautiful word he had ever heard.

"It is my greatest pleasure to meet you, Emma."

The sincerity in his tone sent a blush through Emma's cheeks, her teeth biting into her bottom lip.

"What do you see we get out of here, Killian?"

Killian could barely muster a yes before Emma was taking his hand in her own and leading him out the door of the pub and into the night.

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Killian can hardly believe that the goddess is leading him towards a boarding house where she speaks softly to the owner who nods, slipping her a key to one of the rooms above stairs. Killian is even more amazed he hasn't managed to trip over his own feet as she guides him up the stairs and to their room. Emma allowed him to slip inside first before following after him, locking the door behind her.

Killian's gaze wandered the room, which was furnished with only a small table, a chair and a bed just big enough for one person.

When her hands touch his shoulders, followed by the feather soft brush of her lips on the back of his neck, a noise of animalist pleasure is wrangled from Killian's mouth. Behind him, Emma chuckles, her teeth nipping at the nape of his neck as she brings her hands around to front, her nimble fingers making quick work of the fastenings of his vest.

"Emma," he groaned, as her hands slipped past his shirt, stroking the hard planes of his chest, her nails tracing over the thatch of hair cover the skin there.

"Mm," she hummed, as she continued her exploration of his chest, slowly dragging his shirt from his shoulders, exposing his shoulders and back like Aphrodite rising from the sea.

Her lips and teeth drew trails of fire down his spine, her hands venturing ever lower until they reached the telltale bulge in his breeks.

Every touch she paid him, every kiss and soft murmur was pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Killian had never felt anything as wonderful as Emma's mouth as she licked, nipped and kissed her way down his back. It was dizzying. When her small hands began to slip past the waist band of his breeks, Killian caught her wandering hand, bringing the delicate appendage to his mouth, worshiping each digit with a kiss. The sweet gesture caught the bar wench by surprise, her own heart leaping into her throat as he turned in her embrace, facing her.

Ocean blue eyes meet her forest green ones, land and sea colliding.

"Emma . . ." he groaned, still clutching her hand, drawing her closer towards before their mouths met.

The kiss . . . gods the kiss . . . it was unlike any Emma had ever been given. Unlike the other men, Killian wasn't simply using her as an instrument for pleasure. No, he was giving it. With his gentle hands running through her hair, down her back as his mouth worked over her own . . . .

It was almost as though they were making love.

The thought sent a jolt through her, sending her lurching away from Killian's gentle embrace. Emma collided with the door, her chest heaving, her head spinning. The expression on Killian's face was bereft. The hurt in his gaze was a knife to her heart.

Emma shook her head as he began to approach her.

"N-no, I'm sorry. I-I have to go," and with that she abruptly unlocked the door and slipped through it, racing down the hall.

Killian was too stunned to make a move after the fleeing woman.

What had he done? Or had it been something he hadn't done?

Killian fell back against the table, bowing his head as a mingling of shame and self-loathing worked its way through him.

He shouldn't be surprised, not really.

A woman like Emma . . . she was too beautiful and worldly to ever truly want a man like him.

Killian adjusted his clothes, and began the short trek back to the ship, his heart breaking with every step he took away from Emma and the night they had almost shared.

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please do review, Im a novice at this smut thing-tell me how my teasing is ;)