HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY – Captain Swan FF
A/N: Takes place sometime later in 4B, no mention of anyone else but Killian & Emma, after she finally gets her own place. Because I was feeling inspired to write a lil fluffy PWP drabble. (Also I suck at titles LOLZ).
.. The way he looks at her in that moment – as if she hangs the sun and the moon and the stars in the sky for him every morning and every night – makes her feel stronger and more powerful than any magic she could ever possess.
Her apartment is dark, minus the fire roaring in the hearth and a few candles flickering along the mantle, and quiet, save for the sounds of two lovers curled together on the sofa making out like a couple of horny teenagers trying to sneak everything in before their parents get home.
Two neglected mugs of hot cocoa grow cold on the coffee table.
He's making a contented humming noise in the back of his throat and she's more than a little embarrassed by the breathy moans escaping hers, but they're having a quiet moment and Emma feels so warm and safe and happy she never wants to leave this room.
Lost in the sensation of her sexy pirate boyfriend kissing her senseless, she clings to him as his tongue slurps her lower lip between his teeth and explores the farthest recesses of her mouth, enjoying the rough feel of beard burn along her cheeks and the coolness of his hook pushing her shirt up to tease the bare skin along her hip.
Desire eats away at her, heat pooling between her thighs as she cups the back of his head to deepen the kiss and if she weren't already straddling his lap, her weakened knees would surely have given out beneath her.
"Swan," he murmurs breathlessly as he nuzzles his scruffy face into her neck, nibbling on the delicate skin with so much self-assurance (as if it's always been this way between them, as if he just instinctively knows what she wants and how she wants it), stars burst along the backs of her eyelids.
He's hard and throbbing beneath her as she rolls and grinds her pelvis down onto his, swallowing his groan with one of her own because she knows the night will end with their nude sweaty limbs tangled together in her hundred-thread count sheets and her toes are curled in her thick wool socks with delightful anticipation.
Killian looks really, really good naked.
He whispers her name again, like she's a religion he practices every day, and she whispers his name back just the same. She's drunk on the feel and taste and smell of him and, barely capable of forming coherent thoughts, she marvels over how perfect and precious he is to her and how grateful she is that he never gave up trying to tear down her walls.
She whispers the words playing over and over in her head like a mantra – "I love you," and his lower lip falls from her mouth with a loud pop as she cups his perfect face in her hands and watches the happiness bloom in his bright blue eyes when the significance of her confession registers.
It's so easy for her to say it out loud now because she's no longer afraid of the magnitude of what she feels for him or the significance of just what they mean to one another.
She tells him because he deserves to hear it every single day for the rest of their lives and because the thought of a lifetime with Killian by her side – cracking inappropriate jokes, leering at her suggestively, pressing warm kisses along her collarbone, tugging lovingly on the ends of her long blonde hair, believing in her so endlessly and completely – fills her with so much joy she giggles, actually giggles, and wraps her arms around his head to pull him flush against her.
"And I you, my love," he whispers, voice thick with emotion, and the way he looks at her in that moment – as if she hangs the sun and the moon and the stars in the sky for him every morning and every night – makes her feel stronger and more powerful than any magic she could ever possess.