When they finally get home from Granny's, Emma is tired. Dead tired, her limbs heavy and her eyes sore from crying. But there's a silver lining too - her cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
They haven't stopped touching all night, Emma never leaving Killian's side as if she's afraid he might suddenly disappear just as abruptly as he returned. It's too good to be true, but she's not letting go, refusing to even consider that this isn't real and this isn't right.
She can only imagine how Killian feels, having literally returned from death, but you wouldn't know it by looking at him, a broad smile stretching his cheeks all evening long too. In the end though, she could see the exhaustion setting in, and it took very little coaxing to convince him to come home with her to the old Victorian house, the one he picked out for them.
And that's the thing, she not alone anymore, it's not just her going home. It's them.
There's so much happiness, it radiates from her heart out of every pore. She's practically humming the entire time she gets ready for bed, swiping face cream over her cheeks and rubbing lotion into her hands, and Emma Swan does not hum. She runs through her routine as quickly as possible, knowing that Killian waits for her in the bedroom, that he's already warming their bed. As much as she hopes they'll have a little time together, she wouldn't be surprised if she finds him asleep already.
Climbing under the covers, she shivers suddenly as she adjusts to the cool sheets. The room is dark and she can't see Killian exactly - only his dark form - but she can feel his presence all around her, hear him clear his throat as he settles into the mattress, and smell his masculine scent wafting through the air.
Scooting backwards, at first she merely finds his legs with her feet, his leg hair a rough contrast to the smoothness of his skin. Exploring his shins, she attempts to warm her frozen toes, quivering slightly as she clutches the mattress, seeking relief from the cold.
It's only then that she notices how warm he is - so warm it's like he's on fire. And it's shocking, really, because when they had touched and kissed in the Underworld, he was there and he was real but he was always cold, so cold and lifeless.
Not anymore.
That's when realization creeps in - at the fact that they're in bed alone and almost naked and anything could happen right now and yes, she wants that, a tremor of excitement running through her.
There's no explanation for it, there's really no conscious thought at all, only the firm awareness that she wants him to consume her, to chase away all of her chills with that fire of his, to melt her and put her back together and strengthen her and break her all at once.
She grabs his arm and wraps it around her, drawing his hand up tightly against her ribs and sighing contentedly, moving even closer to him until there's no space left in between. Just bodies and warm skin as she feels the outlines of his boxer briefs pressing into her. There's a brief flicker of thought, "he wears boxer briefs?" but she's still tired and aching and she just wants to be soothed by him.
As she wiggles her hips to get comfortable, she feels a small bulge against her backside and suddenly she's more awake than she would have thought possible, the sound of Killian's sharp inhale sending a tingle across her skin.
She almost lost him and he was dead and he shouldn't even be here right now but he is and she's thunderstruck with emotion and never been so goddamn happy in her entire life. And yes she aches for the loss of Robin and for Regina and Roland and everything that went wrong today, but still...she's not dead and Killian's (somehow) not dead and sex has never seemed like a better idea than it does right now.
As if he can hear her thinking, Killian murmurs softly before pressing a whisker-edged kiss to her shoulder, right in between the strap of her tank top and her neck and it causes her to tremble, igniting a fire that was there all along as if the kiss found it's way straight to that spot low in her groin.
There's a brief pause before he kisses her again and then she's turning around swiftly to grab his head and pull him to her so she can devour him, a desperate sound coming from her throat that she's not sure how to suppress as she fuses her lips to his.
Because her desire for him is unquenchable. Because he's flame and she's oxygen. Because life is happening now, and they love each other and he's OK and God it's all she's ever wanted, why did she ever waste any time getting to this place?
Their kisses are desperate, their hands all over the place as they explore one another's bodies in a frenzied state. She helps him lift her tank top over her head, then his mouth makes its way from her lips down over her chin, quickly leaving a wet trail of kisses along the column of her throat as he makes his way to her chest. When his mouth closes over one nipple, she cries out, arching her back off the bed and raking her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
Her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer, and he's hard now, so hard for her she aches in her core with a hollow, wanton need to be filled by him. She wants this to be sweet and memorable because it's their first time, but they've waited too long for this and she's riding too high on emotions to care right now that she's already moving on to the next step - her fingers finding their way inside the waistband of his briefs as she attempts to slide them over the swell of his ass.
He lavishes both of her breasts with attention, licking and sucking at her nipples while his hand rubs and squeezes her soft mounds just the right amount. He lifts up so she can finish pushing his underwear all the way down his legs, and she takes the opportunity to push her own underwear down, kicking them aside.
Then he presses down on top of her, kissing her hungrily and she can feel herself writhing beneath him, desperate and wanting. Her hand seeks out his cock, and she revels in the smooth, solid weight of it, more than ample for her needs. He ruts into her hand and she knows he's just as far gone as she is, just as anxious to move things along.
Thick fingers find their way between her thighs and she gasps as he explores her swollen flesh, her slickness forcing him to release a lusty groan deep from his chest. She gasps and cries out while he strokes her, bringing her higher, turning her brain to liquid.
"I want you," she manages to get out in a whisper, just in case her intentions weren't completely clear, her voice quavering tremulously.
"I want you too," he answers quietly, and she smiles as she spreads her legs wide, guiding him into the cradle of her thighs, shaking in anticipation as he lines himself up and the belled top of his cock rubs into her wetness.
As he nudges at her entrance, displaying more restraint than she would have herself, he stops suddenly, pushing himself up on his elbows to look down at her.
"What about...protection?" he asks, and she wonders how he even knows that word.
"You mean you're worried about me getting pregnant?" The thought comes as a surprise.
"Aye. Aren't you?"
"Would it honestly matter if I did? Get pregnant, I mean?" She means it, she honestly means it, the truth of it all shocking her with its plainness.
There's a smile and a scoff. She knows she's pleased him but he's still unbelieving as she pushes his hair back from his eyes, caressing his cheek tenderly as if she's silently urging him to continue.
"I can imagine the crown princess getting pregnant before she's wed would be seen as quite the scandal."
Emma snorts. "I'm hardly a princess."
"You're my princess though, always have been, always will be." Her heart blossoms in her chest, but there will be time for sweet words later. Right now she has other things in mind.
"Killian...are you going to make love to me or not?" She grabs his ass, her palms pressing his hips down into hers shamelessly.
Realization seems to dawn on him and amazement fills his words as he comes to terms with the fact that she's so much his that she'd gladly conceive his child right now, no qualms about it.
"As you wish," he whispers reverently.
Then he finally slides home, stretching her and filling her, and it suddenly occurs to Emma that she hasn't been with a man since Walsh, and that was a long time ago and Killian is so much larger and just wow...wow.
Her head falls back, her mouth dropping open on a gasp as she holds him to her, her fingers digging into the firm flesh of his back. He doesn't move and they're just joined together for a moment and she's about to whine or complain or cajole him but before she can say a thing it's as if he already knows what she's thinking and he pulls back before burying himself inside of her again and God she could get used to this. She could really get used to this.
"Oh Emma," he groans before moving again, this time with a bit more certainty, though his muscles are shaking.
"Killian!" she gasps out, the intensity of the situation overwhelming her.
She's had sex plenty of times, and she's made love a handful of times too, but it's never been like this before. If this is how it is between all true love couples, then it's no wonder she has magic, because this is incredible to the point of ecstasy and they are only just getting started.
As he slides in and out, finding a rhythm, she hangs on for dear life, her body exploding with sensation. She feels the friction taking her higher and higher, the pressure building as their bodies move as one. He kisses her deeply, his tongue exploring the depths of her mouth and she's struck by how much she wants him to become a part of her, to be fused with her body forever.
Killian - he's here, he's home. Oh God, Oh God. She almost lost him for all eternity - she thought she had. And now he's here and he's inside of her and she loves him so much it hurts, her heart thundering against her ribcage.
It's passion and pain, heartache and euphoria, love and lust all wrapped into one. It's too much and not enough and Emma can feel the tears burning their way out of her eyes before a small sob escapes her throat.
"Emma, are you alright?" Concern laces his voice.
She wipes a tear away hastily, not wanting to ruin the moment. "Yes, sorry. Just- I want to feel alive Killian. Make me feel alive."
You can just shut the hell up, she tells her brain because despite all the lingering grief, he's here now, Killian is here. It's not time wallow in all the tragedy, it's time to celebrate, and she'll be damned if she wastes another minute being unhappy when her man is in her arms, breathing and alive.
Rocking her hips up to his in invitation, he seems to sense instinctively what she wants and what she needs, his mouth coming down to her neck and biting and sucking at that juncture where it meets her shoulder. It's this action, this connection which grounds her, bringing her back to reality and the fullness of pleasure as she cries out softly.
She's aching for his touch, and as her hands roam all over his body - from clutching his ass to squeezing his shoulders - his good hand finds her breast and fondles it, her nipple hard and full of sensation. It's everything all at once and she wonders if he's about to fall off that cliff just like she is. Her leg rides up around his hip, and he pulls it up even higher, stretching her even more open as he works it up over his shoulder.
Some incoherent thing escapes her lips because it's pure bliss - this thing they're doing - and she wonders vaguely if this is what heaven felt like. She doubts it.
The sound of their panting fills the air as they climb higher to the peak, sweat coating their bodies in a pleasant sheen. So good, so good, so right. The way it was always meant to be between them.
Kiss me, touch me, fuck me...yes yes yes.
Then a strong, undulating tightness grasps her entire body as the pressure releases, tremors coursing through her body as she bursts into a million little pieces. Clenching him tightly, she can feel him tense and then bend and break with her, the sound of his pleasure filling the night air and washing over her in waves of satisfaction.
It takes them a long moment to move again, to even think, but then he's telling her he loves her and kissing her deeply and she's so full, so content, she never wants it to end. But they can't stay this way forever, so after cleaning up briefly, she tucks herself into him once again, her hand stroking over his body in soothing motions as his fingers massage her scalp, tangling in her hair.
"I guess you were right," she whispers finally.
"About what, love?"
"About being a survivor."
He chuckles lightly. "Aye. That I am."
"You died on me three times Killian," she reproaches, her breath coming out shakily. "Just don't do it again," she pleads, hand covering his heart as she feels it beat steadily.
She can hear him exhale loudly. "I've no intention to, darling. Zeus said he was sending me where I belong, and he sent me back to your arms." He kisses her, pressing his lips firmly against hers. "I think I'll stay right here."
"Good," Emma answers and she smiles, allowing something warm and peaceful to spread through her, allowing herself to hope as tiredness starts to settle in. Snuggling her cheek into his chest, she wraps herself around him, and before she knows it, they both drift away into blissful sleep, peppered with angsty dreams about the virulent battles that await them on the horizon.
She used to dream about a better life, a better time. She doesn't have to anymore.