Author's note: So I took this little priest AU out of the Long Night Collection to make it a stand alone story. Just a smidge of plot and lots of smut. If you read it in the other collection, I made a few edits, cleaned up typos, etc. There might be more, who knows. If you've never read these, I hope you enjoy them!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Tidings of Joy

Killian scrubbed his hands over his face. Midnight Mass was in two hours, but it might as well be two minutes. In his distracted state, he was sure to mess something up. He'd participated in the Mass several times since taking his vows, would have sworn he could do it in his sleep. But that was before. Before he'd come to this parish, before he'd broken his vows, before he met a certain blonde siren.

Not that any of this was her fault. He was the one with a sacred vow. He was the one who fantasized about her. He was the one who couldn't control himself.

He was lucky he believed in a God who forgave.

He got up from his desk and found his Bible. Despite his guilt, he could still draw comfort from its pages. A reminder of what he was to be celebrating was all he needed. He absolutely would not check his phone to see if a certain lass had left him a message or three.

Sitting in the comfortable leather armchair, Killian flipped to Matthew's version of the Christmas story; it was his favorite. The logical part of his mind recognized the inconsistencies, but faith wasn't based in logic. He'd struggled with that in seminary, thought he had a handle on it.

Then Emma had come along and had him questioning everything he ever believed in.

He huffed, mentally cursing himself. He had to stop this. He hadn't seen her, been with her, in more than a week. Perhaps she'd finally lost interest, gotten her thrill from corrupting a man of God and moved on. That would probably be best for both of them. One indiscretion (or twelve, but who was counting?) and he could get things back on track. No one had to know.

His phone rang, and his heart dropped. That ringtone belonged to only one person. He jumped up, Bible spilling to the floor as he rushed to answer it. "Hello?"

"Hey," came the sultry voice on the other end. Killian moved to the door and shut it with a soft click, flipping the lock out of habit. "You busy?"

"Preparing for mass," he said casually, like he wasn't on pins and needles.

"It's at midnight, right?"

"Aye. Father Cartwright is doing the Vigil."

"Leaving Father Jones for the big show?" Emma asked. He could practically feel her smirk through the phone.

He scratched behind his ear. "Something like that."

"Maybe I'll come by, check it out."

He inhaled sharply. "Come? Here?"

"Mass is typically held in the church," she deadpanned. "It's not like I don't know my way around, Father Jones."

He bit his lip. The way she said "Father Jones" always got his pulse racing. "You really want to come?"

She laughed, a warm rich sound. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

He chuckled too, realizing too late his double entendre. "Perhaps I would."

He heard her make a little mewling sound; he bit back a groan. It was ridiculous how easily she could get to him. He was supposed to be a man of God, but with her he was simply Killian. "I want to come," she said slowly. "So, so bad, Father."

He flopped down in the leather chair once more, her words going straight to his groin. "Would you like some help, my child?"

"Please," she whispered. "You're the only one who can."

"Fuck, I've missed you," he groaned. "What are you wearing, lass?"

"I just got out of the shower, so a towel," she replied. "I'm still wet."

He groaned, the picture clear in his mind. Their trysts hadn't given him much opportunity to explore her nude form, but he'd seen enough. "Couldn't wait?"

"No. And I wanted you to know I was coming."

"You're not yet," he shot back, the heel of his hand rubbing his crotch.

"So do something about it, Father Jones."

"Spread your legs," he demanded softly. The walls of his office were fairly thick, but he wasn't taking any chances. "Are you wet there, love? Do you wish I was there to pleasure you?"

Emma shivered, her thighs falling open. She stroked the length of her slit, his voice more than enough to arouse her. It was what she'd dreamed of for weeks before finally taking matters into her own hands and giving them what they both wanted. "Yes," she breathed.

Killian yanked open his belt and opened his fly. He groaned as his cock sprang free, hard and heavy in his hand. "Always so wet for me, lass. Your taste...want to taste you, Emma. Will you let me?"

"Yes," she hissed, leaning back and rubbing her clit. "Please, Father."

"Patience. Always so greedy, lass."

Emma growled into the phone. "Stop being smug and make me come!"

"Are you touching yourself?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, still steadily rubbing. "I like you better."

Killian groaned, tightening his grip on his cock. "Such a lovely cunt," he purred. "Swollen and wet. Tight."

Emma moaned; hearing the filthy words from his lips never failed to get her going. She slipped a finger inside her heat, whimpering. "Tell me you're as horny as I am," she pleaded.

"Oh yes," he replied. "It's been far too long since I've had you, Swan. You're all I can bloody think about."

"Oh God." She should feel bad about this, having phone sex with a priest. A priest she was planning on having actual sex with in a few hours time. But she couldn't stop. He called to her. "I need you," she panted. "So much."

"Bloody hell." He swiped his thumb over his leaking tip, wishing it was her mouth on him instead. "Dreamed about you. Want you in my bed, lass. Writhing under me while I pump my cock into that tight sheath."

Emma bit her lip, adding two more fingers, pumping them vigorously, imagining his cock. "Yes," she cried. "Or bent over your desk. Or riding you in the confessional. Fuck, that was hot."

Killian's hand moved faster, relishing in the memory. "Such a temptress, leading me astray."

"Is it working?"

"Fuck yes. Come for me, Swan. Need to hear it."

Emma cried out, walls fluttering around her fingers, thumb flicking her clit. She chanted his name over and over until she was spent, head falling back against the vanity. Killian moaned and cursed, his own orgasm coming in waves, thick ropes of his seed coating his hand, his slacks. He slumped back in the chair panting, both euphoric and sad. If he was going to sin, he wanted her there with him.

"Killian?" she asked, still a little breathless.

"I'm here, lass."

"May I come to Mass tonight?"

He found himself nodding, before he realized she couldn't see him. "Aye. I'd love for you to be there, Swan."

"And after?"

Shaking off fresh tendrils of guilt, he nodded again. "Please. I really was starting to think you'd forgotten me."

"Sorry. Busy week. Maybe I'll tell you about it."

"I'd like that." Wanting her as he did was pretty much a one way ticket to hell, so why not do the thing properly? They hung up shortly after and Killian went to clean up. Perhaps he should invest in more pants.

As Mass approached, Killian adjusted his ceremonial robes. They were stuffy and hot, or perhaps it was simply him. He knew Emma would be in the crowd, watching his every move. Worse, he wanted to see her. His distraction from earlier was gone; just knowing that she hadn't forgotten about him, still wanted him, did wonders for his concentration.

Just what kind of priest was he anyway?

One that was halfway in love with a woman who was prickly and willful and beautiful. Emma just had a light and it blinded him. He'd never gotten the same feeling of rightness from the Church that he got in her arms.

He was so very, very screwed.

Promptly at midnight, he stepped out and began the service. Surreptitiously he scanned the crowd, searching for his Swan. It took him the better part of an hour (the congregation had been up and down about six times by then) but he finally found her. Her golden head was bowed respectfully; he caught a hint of a red dress. She looked very demure, even though he knew she was anything but. Emma was fiery and forthright, but innately kind and compassionate. She caught his eye at last, giving him a tiny smile. He schooled his features, returning her smile with a subtle nod.

With renewed vigor, he finished the ritual, waiting down at the rail to hand out communion. Emma was not among them, a blessing and a curse. If she'd come that close to him, he wasn't sure he could control his desire to touch her. Even a caress of her cheek would be wildly inappropriate. He forced himself to be patient, do his job, until the church emptied. He sighed heavily once he was alone once more. He needed to clean up before finding Emma. They had another service first thing in the morning and Father Cartwright would kill him if the Sanctuary wasn't spotless.

Killian loved the Lord but how many services did He need?

He was halfway to his office when a hand reached out and yanked him close. "What took you so long?" Emma murmured in his ear.

Killian immediately brought his hands to her waist; she was so warm through the fabric. "Straightening the Sanctuary," he mumbled, trying to find her lips in the dark. But she eluded him, the minx.

"So fucking me there is out of the question?" she teased, biting his earlobe.

"Isn't enough that you've seduced a priest, Swan?"

She stroked his chest, cursing the layers. She liked his chest hair. "I thought you said you wanted me in your bed?" she purred.

"I want you everywhere," he swore. "May the Lord forgive me."

"Where's your bed?"

As one of the lower priests in the parish, he had a small cottage not far from the church. "Around the corner. It's not big."

She cupped his cheek and finally, guided his lips to hers. He moaned into her kiss, his world righting in an instant. He pulled her in by the hips, arms wrapping around her lower back. Emma mewled against his lips, a wave of desire rolling through her. Good lord, the man could kiss.

"Take me there," she whispered. "And I'll take your confession, Father."

He grinned; that was their code. In this...whatever it was, he was the sinner in need of forgiveness. And Emma was his absolution. He stole one final kiss from the shadows and led her first to his office, so he could ditch his robes. He hung them up carefully, trying not to stare at Emma too much. Her dress clung to her curves, falling to mid-thigh. It was just sedate enough for church, but the plunging neckline and long legs were more than enough to get his heart pumping. When he was finished, he shrugged into his thick coat. Emma wore a long trench coat, a scarf wrapped around her neck. They walked side by side but didn't hold hands or given any other indication that they were anything but priest and parishioner. It was very late, just after two in the morning, as they turned the corner to his cottage. He honestly never expected to be bringing Emma here, but who was he to argue?

It was dark; the neighborhood seemed to be asleep. He turned the key in the lock and let Emma slip inside. He followed, tossing his keys aside and hurriedly shrugging out of his coat. The cottage was tiny, but he was a priest and wasn't expected to have much in the way of earthly comforts. A living room, a kitchen, a single bedroom and a bathroom. That was all. Emma took it in, before reaching for his hand. He accepted it and guided her to the bedroom. Another door closed and locked and for the first time, they were entirely alone.

He stepped into her space, hands on her waist, then sliding up over her ribs. She leaned close, breath hot on his skin. "Yes?"

Killian licked at her throat. "Bless me, sweet Emma, for I have sinned."

"How long has it been since your last confession?"

He grabbed her hips, bring her flush with his. "Eight days and four hours," he bit out, grinding against her. "Too fucking long."

Emma groaned, carding her fingers through his thick hair. "And what do you wish to confess?"

"Impure thoughts. Deeds. Filthy fantasies."

She fingered his priest's collar, wetness pooling between her thighs. "Anything specific?"

"All kinds of things. Pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock. A lass on her hands and knees screaming my name as I fuck her. Tying her to the bed so I can lick every inch of her perfect skin."

Emma whimpered; he knew exactly how to make her want him. Not that she didn't always. She'd been dangerously attracted to the priest the moment she met him. "So you...God...fantasize about one woman?"

Killian kissed the corner of her lips, then along her jaw. "Just one. Golden hair, piercing green eyes, legs that go on forever. Perfect in every way." He nibbled on her earlobe; her clit throbbed in response. "What do I need to do, sweet Emma? To absolve myself of my sin?"

She palmed the bulge in his pants, stroking him through the fabric. "Give in to it," she demanded. "Indulge your fantasies, Father Jones. With me."

He groaned, kissing her hard on the mouth. "Oh yes, always you." He kicked off his shoes and guided her to the small twin bed. He lay her down over the width of the bed, kneeling before her. "No need to be quiet, lass. There's no one to hear you." With that, he eased off her heels and kissed her ankles. He moved up her legs, pushing the skirt up as he went, kissing, licking, nibbling on her skin. He sucked hard on the delicate skin between her thighs, leaving a bold mark there. He wanted her to remember who made her feel this way.

Emma gripped the sheet in tight fists, hips rocking steadily, head thrashing. Their previous trysts had of necessity been quick, dirty and very hot. On his desk, at the altar very late at night, in the confessional in the middle of the day. Once they had a quickie in one of the church closets. Now he could take his time, worship her body, practically make the skin melt off her bones. He deliberately avoided her center, seeking out other sensitive places on her body. He kissed the arch of her foot and she moaned, surprised. He grinned lecherously as her and did it again, massaging the arch firmly.

"Like that?"

She bit her lip. "God yes. But you're teasing, Killian."

"Perhaps I just like watching you writhe for me."

"Ugh!"

He chuckled and kissed the back of her knee. "It's torture for me as well, Swan. I want you so bloody much. And I shouldn't." He spread her knees and bent to inhale her scent. "You call these knickers, lass?"

"Thong," she groaned, knowing her underwear were completely ruined now. "Just get them off!"

He reached under her skirt and found the waistband, tugging the flimsy material down her legs. Once she was free, he dived under her skirt, licking a long stripe along her slit. "Wanted this earlier," he mumbled. "I plan to enjoy it." Emma yanked back the skirt, so she could see him, his dark head between her thighs.

"Yes, Father! Yes!" she cried, as he sucked greedily on her clit. It was freeing, not having to keep her voice down. He made her feel so much; she didn't want it to stop. He moved from her clit to her dripping entrance, lapping at her arousal; he was talented with that mouth, bringing her off with little effort. But he didn't stop, working her up again, adding his fingers, two thick digits sliding into her heat. Emma could hardly stand it; she was on fire, the pressure building higher and higher in her belly. She shattered with a sharp cry, fingers coiled in his hair.

Spent, she collapsed against the mattress, shivering as Killian parted her dress. He unwrapped the fabric, kissing his way up her torso. "God, you are gorgeous," he mumbled into her skin. He tugged the dress away; she lay naked and panting in his bed. "Emma?"

"Hmm?"

"Still with me?"

"Mmhmm." She opened her eyes and smiled at him. He lay beside her, still dressed. "Hello, Father Jones."

"I should not love the way you say that. It sounds so filthy on your lips."

"We're not done, Father," she reminded him. She reached over and stroked him through his pants. "Not by a long shot." Killian groaned, rocking into her expert touch. He found her lips and pressed sloppy kisses there, hands wandering her body. Emma left him and started working his shirt open. They made out lazily as she slowly stripped him naked. She'd never seen him entirely nude before and...holy shit. "Wow."

Killian actually blushed; he hadn't been naked with a woman since before seminary. And then he'd been a gangly teenager. "Yeah?"

She touched his skin, tracing the lines of his muscles, over his chest, his hips. She even squeezed his ass, which she was already very fond of. "Oh yeah." She flashed him a wicked grin then pushed him on his back, latching onto his skin with her lips. She gave him the same attention he'd given her, worshiping his body with mouth and hands. He was hard as a rock, desperate for relief. Anything, if only she'd stop toying with him. She fondled his sac, observing his cock with a critical eye. The things he could do to her with that should be illegal. And immoral. But God help her, she couldn't stop wanting him.

He bucked off the bed when she licked along the fat vein, moving from root to tip. The first thing she'd ever done to him was give him an earthshattering blowjob; he was helpless against her after that. She lapped at the weeping slit, swirling her tongue around the sensitive head. "I want you inside me, Father," she whispered. "I need you inside me."

"Oh fuck," he swore. She took him into her mouth, bobbing up and down, eyes locked with his. Her pupils were blown, so were his, caught up in their lust. But Killian thought he saw a hint of something else, something undefinable in her green eyes. She knew precisely when to back off, stopping just short of orgasm. Killian tugged her up and Emma squealed. Her cry was cut off by his kiss as they maneuvered in the tiny bed. "Wanted this for so long."

"So take me," she challenged, easing him between her thighs. They rocked and teased, her soaking center grinding against his cock. "Fuck, I need to feel you. You feel so good inside me, Father."

It was that last bit that did it; Killian reared back and plunged into her hot tight sheath with a single stroke. Emma cried out in pleasure, pulling him down to kiss him hard as he fucked her with jerky rocks of his hips. She didn't know if being sex deprived for all those years made him work extra hard to please her, but he was the best lover she'd ever had. He hit her in all the right places, thick cock dragging along her walls, stretching her. Killian lowered his head and latched onto one of her nipples, sucking it greedily as his hips snapped into hers.

"Yes, yes yes!" Emma cried, back arching. The bed creaked under them, clearly not made for this much stress, but no one paid any attention. She clawed at his back, locking her ankles around his hips. Killian grunted, releasing her with a wet pop. "Close," he gasped. "Come, Emma. Squeeze me."

She found her clit and flicked it rapidly, her high coming in a rush. She screamed, long and loud, as it rocked her, stars popping behind her eyes. Her clamping walls sent him over the edge quickly, milking him dry. He rutted into her until they were both spent, shaking in each other's arms.

He tried to roll off but there wasn't really anywhere for him to go. Emma whimpered as he slipped from her, following his lead and laying on her side, facing him. Killian reached up and stroked her cheek; she was still flushed, panting for breath. "Lass?"

"Hmm?"

"Okay?"

She surprised him by snuggling close. "Yep."

He wrapped an arm around her waist. "We should get you cleaned up."

"In a minute." This was the part they both hated, even though no one said anything. Usually, it was mitigated by circumstances, having indulged in their lust in some back corner or other. But now she was in his bed. Part of her didn't want to leave, which scared the crap out of her. So instead of thinking too much, she leaned up and kissed him. Slow, in no hurry, soft tender kisses, just because she could. He didn't stop her, secretly pleased she didn't seem to be in a rush to leave.

Still, he couldn't stop the nagging voice. "Love, what is this?"

She leaned back, glancing away. "Does it have to be something?"

"No. Maybe." He sighed. "I missed you, is all."

That she understood. "I missed you too," she admitted. "It's been a hell of a week."

Killian offered her a sympathetic smile, going to get her a washcloth. "Care to talk about it? I am rather good at listening."

She laughed, accepting the cloth. "I guess you are. Father." He pretended to glare at her. "What? I'm sleeping with a priest."

"Believe me, I am well aware. It seems the flesh is weak when it comes to you, Swan."

"I wouldn't say that," she smirked.

"Oi! You were going to tell me about your hellish week?"

"Oh, right." She looked around the dingy room. "Do you have a blanket or something?"

He went to fetch one from the closet. "Planning on staying?" he asked casually.

She shrugged. "Maybe. I'd have to go early though. Don't you have neighbors?"

"Aye." He draped the blanket over them and huddled close to her. "We'll worry about that later. Now tell me about it. Please?"

She hesitated for only a second before launching into the tale. He soaked in everything she said, cherishing this moment. He didn't know what would happen, but he found that he didn't care. He simply had to have faith.