"Hook…you- you did it! You figured it out."
"Well I can't take all the cre-"
She grabbed him. Emma gripped her hands onto the collar of his jacket, pulled him towards her, and suddenly her lips were crashing down on his, not holding anything back.
Her desire, her need for it was indescribable. She was Emma Swan; she never acted on impulses. She always thought things through and never let her walls down for anyone, but this time she couldn't help it. Something stronger than her urged her to finally give in.
Her lips were desperate against his, the longing for him was agonizing. He tasted of the sweet remnants of rum – someone who frequently drank it but hadn't in a while. She didn't mind it though – it only made it that much more real that she was kissing him.
Their lips began to move in a sensual rhythm: he traced the bottom of her lip with the tip of his tongue before wrapping his left arm around her slim waist – careful not to brush his hook too harshly against any bare flesh. He brought his other hand upwards to the nape of her neck – her soft, golden hair tingling his palm.
Emma thrust herself into his hold – relishing at his response and the need to be even closer. Her mind now a daze as he sucked gently on her lower lip, driving her insane with desire.
But he didn't stop there.
He moved his lips to her burning neck, continuing his torturous sucking. A light moan escaped her lips as she gripped his dark hair and threw her head back, giving him better access.
She pulled his face back up to hers, and leaned in again for a second round. This time it was different though. Less urgent. More tender. The passion was still there, but the kiss never losing its depth.
Now it was his time to groan as she pressed her body against his, her mouth slow against his.
Neither of them knew how much time had passed. Whether it had been seconds or hours, but it no longer mattered. The jungle seemed to freeze around them – no leaves swayed and the only sound that could be heard was of their hearts beating at the same pace.
Without knowing how, her hands were back on his collar, and his hand against her flaming cheek.
She pulls back completely out of breath, yet her fingers still dug deep into the leather of his jacket.
Their foreheads pressed against one another – both sweating and panting.
Emma musters the courage to be the first one to look up – and when blue meets green, no words are needed to express what had finally been ignited.
She looks as though she's about to speak, but he brings a finger to her lips, places his face against her ear, and whispers in a tone that sends a shiver down her spine:
"Good form…but not good enough."
Her eyes widen with disbelief as her heat beat begins to pick up again.
His eyes bare into hers as he initiates round three, and she willingly accepts the feelings she has tried so long to ignore. Walls down. Door open. Welcoming Killian Jones into her heart.