Black As The Devil, Hot As Hell

by sandra70

A sequel to "Rotten", set post-4x10, with a slight canon divergence. Emma has restored Hook's heart - gently - and they are going on their long-overdue, second date.

Author's note:

this is a sequel to Rotten and therefore contents a slight canon divergence about the way Emma defeated Rumple and restored Hook's heart; also, Elsa and Anna haven't returned home yet. But these are only random plot points; this story is about coffee. Hence the title: Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand, a French Statesman, said once that coffee always should be:

"Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel and sweet as love."

---

Only a few days had gone by since the last crisis – the curse of Shattered Sight – had been resolved, and things were turning back to normal only very slowly. Belle was working with quiet grimness on finding a solution to free the trapped wizards from the sorcerer's hat, including her perfidious husband, but there was an incredible amount of ancient books for her to study before she could even come near it. Surprisingly enough, Regina was trying to help her, too.

Elsa, Anna and Kristoff had to find a way to go back to their land, Arendelle, which meant they needed a portal; as the situation there was a little risky, they were starting to get a little anxious about it. Emma hated to see her newly found friend Elsa go, but she knew how it was to be away from home, and so she did her best – feeling a little obliged by her burden as the Savior – to help with that, too. It was a little tricky, though, when the wizard with the vastest knowledge of magic – the Dark One – was temporarily unavailable.

But tonight, nothing of all this was weighing on Emma's mind. Tonight, she had freed herself from everything that normally prevented her from leading a normal life, she wasn't – and didn't want to be – the Savior tonight. Because tonight was date night.

She hadn't stood on ceremony and asked Hook out on a second date the day after she'd sealed and restored his heart. The pirate seemed a bit dumbfounded and overwhelmed after the whole experience and obviously way too much in awe – about the fact that he was still alive and that Emma had told him outright that she loved him – to ask her out, so she had jumped on the occasion, but told him to arrange the details.

When they entered the restaurant – it was the same as on their first date not so much time ago – Emma felt only a very little déjà-vu; although she was wearing a similar dress, ponytail and heels, although they were seated at the same table, this time it was different. There wasn't that slight, careful awkwardness between them that usually was typical for a first date, even of an untypical couple like them. Hook didn't have his both hands this time, but that didn't keep him from deftly pulling out her chair for her and, while he was pushing it closer to the table again when she'd sat down, brushing his lips briefly against her temple. Emma felt the light touch tingle all the way down to her toes.

"I hope you don't mind we're at the same place again," he started, displaying only a little nervousness.

"Not at all," she replied quickly, "the place is nice, the food delicious, and the company..." – she paused for a moment to give him one of those minute flirty smile she was just getting used to – "...entertaining."

He snorted a little, embarrassed laugh and averted his eyes for the fraction of a second before tilting his head. "And my special friend Will Scarlet isn't on the run anymore, so we most likely won't be disturbed." He threw a furtive glance at his gleaming hook that was resting at the edge of the table. "Neither by him nor by my hand, cursed or not," he sighed.

"Stop that," Emma told him firmly.

"I know." He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows in a sheepish shrug. "Not my brightest idea." His eyes were still fixed on his metal attachment in a a pensive way, and Emma frowned.

"Well, no," she confirmed in a severe voice. "But not because it got you involved with the freaking Dark One!" Without moving his head, his eyes darted to her questioningly, and she went on: "Because – nice as it was holding both your hands – it was really of no importance."

A very tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and she reached out across the table with her left hand and slightly brushed the knuckle of her thumb across the back of his hand. "Now... would you order us some... how did you call it..." – he couldn't believe that she actually batted her eyelashes at him – "...libations?" She'd deliberately picked up his as usual unusual choice of words and remembered exactly the glance he'd given her at their first date when he'd assumed she was afraid to have drinks because she might find him even more irresistible after a few libations. That look had shamelessly stripped her down right to her underwear and hit her directly in the guts, and deeper, and she'd been seriously wondering if her ovaries were still intact.

Hook gave her a slightly surprised look with a well-dosed raise of his eyebrows this time, but the way his tongue moved behind his slightly parted lips showed her that he was indeed following her train of thoughts. She averted her eyes for a moment, all the fair maiden, and then looked back at him from under her long eyelashes and added: "Not that I'd need them..." ...you're irresistible either way.

"I see," he replied nonchalantly, "no villain to be on our guard against tonight..."

She smiled. "Nothing to be on our guard against tonight," she replied in a meaningful tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched in response before he beckoned the waiter to their table with a tilt of his head. He obviously approved of her playful, flirty attitude.

Later, when they left the restaurant after a delicious dinner, a lot of exchanged longing smiles, and a few libations, Hook unceremoniously draped his black leather jacket around Emma's shoulders which she accepted with another, almost coy smile. He secretly suspected that she had deliberately left a jacket or coat of her own at home – the weather was chilly, and her dress left her shoulders and arms bare, so it had to be an easy guess that she would feel cold at some point. The thought somehow elated him incredibly, and he was full of enthusiasm about the continuation of this date.

"Where would you like to go now, love?" he asked eagerly, reaching for her left hand. "I haven't made any particular plans, mainly because I wanted to leave it up to your..."

"I'd like to go home," Emma interrupted quickly and threw him completely off track.

Home? Did she really want the evening to end so early? But Killian Jones had never been the one to give up easily. He shot her one of his best sapphire smiles and tilted his head. "Well, the night is young..." He raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss on the inside of her wrist, perfectly aware of the effect it would have on her. "I thought, perhaps you'd care to go to a place with music, perhaps a dance..."

She smiled sweetly. "Another time I'd love to, Killian," she told him, and his heart sank. "Knowing that, when it comes to dancing, you definitely know what you're doing," she added. "But today... I'd really, really like to go home."

Hook drew a deep breath and smiled back a little tensely, struggling to keep his composure. A twitching muscle in his jaw, however, revealed a bit of his inner uproar; he was asking himself what he had done to make her want to get rid of his company so soon tonight... he was under the impression that, unlike at their first date, he had nothing to apologize for. Yet, it looked like for today, the date was over. He suppressed a little sigh. "Well, your wish is my command..."

In the meantime, at the other end of Storybrooke, Mary Margaret put down her fork with a sigh. "Elsa, that was delicious. Really."

The Queen of Arendelle smiled. "Well, I'm ashamed to say I didn't make it myself, but it was the least I could do, however. I owe you two so much, we all do." She reached over the table for the hand of her sister and squeezed it.

"No, it was the least I could do," David threw in, "to return the favor Joan... I mean, Anna did me a long time ago."

Anna grinned sheepishly, like always when David mentioned the alias she'd used when they'd met back in Misthaven... or, the Enchanted Forest, as David called it. "What a pity that Emma and Killian couldn't come," she commented and turned to her sister: "What did you call him, Elsa? Hook?"

"A pirate," Kristoff snorted a little disdainfully.

"Well, actually he's not that bad," David replied firmly, and his wife threw him an affectionate little sideways glance.

"Pirates are better than wizards, I told you," Anna scolded her fiancé.

Kristoff rolled his eyes. "May I remind you that the last pirate we met locked us in a trunk and threw us overboard his ship?" he snarled.

"And may I remind you," Anna shot back, "that the last wizard we met tried to kill us, too?"

Elsa quickly butted in: "In fact, that ship you boarded... that used to be Hook's ship."

Anna frowned. "What? But how..."

"That's true," Mary Margaret confirmed. "The Jolly Roger has been his ship for a long time."

"Emma told me about it," Elsa explained. "He traded it once to rescue her from a curse. Long story."

Anna's jaw dropped, and she slapped Kristoff with the back of her hand on the arm in a see?!-gesture. "Awwww. Really?" she blurted out. "That is so sweet! He must be really into her, then!" She threw a quick look at David and Mary Margaret and added quickly: "I mean... not into her like into her, I meant... hooked on her?" She blushed and bit her lip. "Ah... not better, right?" In a desperate search for help, she looked at her sister.

"They're very much in love, really," Elsa helped out her younger sister with a smile. "And I understand that they aren't here today. With everything that has happened, they do need some time to themselves."

David, who had been sipping on his wine, put down his glass slowly. He had understood when Emma had told him she and Hook wouldn't join the merry celebration the Arendelles had invited them to, because they wanted to go on their second date... but the way Elsa had put it now, made a few alarm bells ring inside his head.

"Oh yes, of course, I know what you mean!" sweet innocent Anna piped up again and grabbed her fiancé's hand. "Kristoff and I can't wait to..."

The latter rolled his eyes. "Anna..."

Her sister shot her a glare – really, sometimes she was too much! – and Anna's eyes widened in embarrassment when she added quickly: "...get married, I meant! Get married!"

David turned to his wife. "We... we should go home now. Neal..."

"No, we should stay and have another drink, my dear," Mary Margaret contradicted firmly. "It's not even ten, and who knows how long our friends will be around. Neal is fine, he's asleep for once." She smiled at Elsa. "What's for dessert?"

David just pressed his lips together and glared at her, but her severe look shut him up in the end.

When Emma and Hook climbed the stairs to the loft, they were still holding hands. He'd tried to slow down their walk, but she'd seemed to be in an actual hurry to get home, and he was more than confused about that. Well, perhaps she just wasn't in the mood for his company tonight. That thought had brought him a little down from the elation he'd felt about the development in their relationship – not only had his Swan restored his heart and saved his life, forgiven him that he had got himself into that mess with the Dark One, and finally confessed her love for him; when he'd still been too upset about everything, she'd even asked him out on a second date. And now she seemed to be doing everything to cut it short? Well, perhaps she needed time to regain her trust in him. You screwed that up yourself, mate, he thought with a bit of frustration. Now be patient.

When they'd reached the door, she turned to him with an open smile that, weirdly enough, didn't look at all like she wanted to get rid of his company as quickly as possible. "So..."

He smiled back a little tensely, trying his best to hide his disappointment. "So..."

She tugged at the lapels of his leather jacket she was still wearing. "This is one of the reasons why I like your new clothes," she said.

He tilted his head. "And what's that?"

She mirrored his gesture and shrugged. "I don't think I'd be very comfortable in that overwhelming coat of yours."

"Oh." He averted his eyes for a moment and scratched behind his ear. "Well, I hope that's not the only thing you approve of about my new attire."

Emma took a step nearer. "No, it's not," she replied in a husky voice and wrapped her arms around his waist, letting her hands slowly trail down his back until they were resting lightly on his firm backside. He hadn't expected anything like that at all and stood there like a pillar of salt for a moment while she let her gaze drop to his mouth and added, her voice almost lowered to a whisper: "I like that there's so much of you to discover..."

Hook drew a deep breath and scrutinized her expression; he was pleasantly surprised at how playfully and seductively she looked at him from under her long eyelashes, as if she was definitely so ready to take this to the next level... unfortunately, they were at the wrong place for this kind of pleasurable activities. Damn, she really needed her own place. The whole atmosphere was buzzing with electricity, and he felt her hands on his lower back like two branding irons; the pulling ache in his loins was almost painful, and he asked himself if she was aware of what she was doing to him. He knew this wouldn't lead anywhere tonight, but he couldn't help joining her game and replied hoarsely: "Well, aren't you quite the dashing explorer, Swan..."

She smiled sultrily and leaned her body even more into him, her lips barely inches away from his, and she almost purred like a cat: "I do feel like a little pillaging and plundering tonight..."

She ran her hands up over his front and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down a little, then she braced the last distance between them and touched her lips to his. Briefly, the thought flickered through Hook's mind that his Swan's behavior did slightly confuse him – first, she was all romantic and flirty during their dinner, then she couldn't seem to end their tête-à-tête early enough and didn't even want to go for a walk with him, and now she acted all like a temptress again, although right here, right now that seemed to be pointless. That woman – open book most times, but sometimes enigma, too. But he couldn't help giving in and following her lead anywhere she pleased to take him, like he always had. And if she wanted just to stay here for the next thirty minutes and goodbye-kiss the hell out of him, perhaps just to reassure herself that he was here and alive, then he would be damned if he denied her one single kiss she was asking for. Even if that meant that he'd have to leave her in a very uncomfortable state to return to his empty bed for yet another sleepless, lonely night.

So, he wrapped his hooked arm around her waist and pulled her even closer, not caring if he betrayed his own burning desire his body wasn't able to suppress any longer. Emma didn't seem to mind anyway; damn, he had the impression that she even rolled her hips a little against his to intensify the contact. His hand slid up along her spine and cradled the back of her head right below her ponytail, but he resisted the urge to wrap her shiny hair firmly around his hand and pull it, just a little.

After what seemed an eternity, their mouths finally parted, and his eyes were still closed when he heard her whisper against his lips: "Wanna come in and have coffee?"

He opened his eyes with some effort, still reveling in the swirl of passion, and snorted a little laugh before he huskily replied: "With your parents, a newborn, and a human icemaker?"

Emma smiled a cheeky, almost self-satisfied little smile. "Actually, no."

Her answer threw him a little off track, and he raised his eyebrow in a confused frown, loosening his embrace a little in his surprise. "Come again?"

Her gaze dropped to his lips, and that weirdly knowing smile of hers deepened. "My parents and Neal aren't home," she told him and added: "Elsa moved out today – she rented a place with Anna and Kristoff until they can figure out how to open a portal back to Arendelle." She raised her eyes to his again. "And today, she invited them out for dinner to thank them for their hospitality and help."

Suddenly, his head was spinning and his throat was very dry. He swallowed thickly. "And she didn't invite you?" was the first, incredibly silly thing to say that came to his mind.

Emma nodded. "She did, in fact – she invited us both." She shrugged in the most adorable, girlish way. "But... I told her we needed to do something for our dating balance. She understood."

He almost didn't believe his ears and stumbled over his own words when he tried to put his thoughts in words. "You... you preferred to go out with me instead of attending a family celebration?"

She was still smiling, but her expression was less cheeky and flirty, but more intense and meaningful now. "I wanted to be alone with you," she told him outright. "We need some privacy."

Hook's mind was racing. He had to moisten his lips before he was able to speak again. "What are you saying, Swan?" he inquired, his voice barely audible, almost failing him.

Her fingers were caressing the back of his neck, right below his hairline, and a shiver ran down his spine. "I'm saying... the coast is clear," she told him. "They won't be home before midnight. Plenty of time for... coffee." For a moment, she averted her eyes, maybe a little frightened by her own courage, but then the moment was gone, and she looked into his eyes again with warm, firm determination.

God, how was he supposed to behave like a gentleman, if she was feeling so warm and soft and bloody demanding in his arms and was looking at him like this? He swallowed again. "But if I have coffee that late, I'm not going to sleep..."

Emma rose to the balls of her feet and brought her lips close to his right ear. "Well, that's the point of having coffee..." she purred, and for the fraction of a second, her lips closed around his earlobe, his ear stud making a clicking sound against her teeth. He closed his eyes and felt more than he heard the soft growl rumble deep in his own chest. He felt her smile against his skin.

"Did you... did you say midnight?" he ascertained, his voice laced thickly with desire now.

"Yeah..." she nodded, "more than enough time for coffee..." She leaned a little back and searched his eyes. "If you fancy some, that is," she added, and there was the sweet, girlish side of hers again – she didn't act like she was sure he was at her beck and call and would of course fall at her feet. She acted like there was still that tiny rest of insecurity that eventually, he might turn her down. Stupid girl.

He smiled one of his genuine, starlit smiles that never failed to make her knees weak, even if he wasn't aware of it. "Oh yes," he replied almost solemnly, "I would really, really love to have some... coffee."

She drew a deep, almost relieved breath. "Good."

Then she released him from her embrace and stepped back to fish the keys from her purse. Hook watched in disbelief as she was unlocking the door, and he could have sworn that her fingers were actually trembling a little. He had to muster every ounce of his willpower not to pull her back into his arms and push her up against the wall and show her what pillaging and plundering really meant.

But despite her shaky fingers, it didn't take Emma long to unlock the door. She went in first and turned he lights on, beckoning him with a nod of her head to follow her. Almost casually, she let his jacket slip from shoulders for him to catch, and he hung it on the coat rack by the door. Then he took a thorough look around the quiet, dimly lit apartment that was usually buzzing with numerous people's activity. "There's nobody here," he murmured as if he still couldn't believe it.

"Told you so," Emma replied and, after a brief second of hesitation, went to the kitchen area, suddenly nervous and indeed a little frightened by her own courage. Without even realizing what she was doing, she took two mugs from the board above the sink and put them on the kitchen counter with a clattering sound. "How do you like your coffee?" she asked and closed her eyes as soon as the words were out. What the hell are you doing there, Swan, she chastised herself mentally, pull yourself together, goddammit.

Hook sensed that she was a little, just a little, lost now, unsure what to do next – knowing what she wanted, yet insecure how to take the next step. A wave of tenderness swept over him, and he knew it was time he played his usual part now – support and encourage her and give her a tiny push in the right direction. He followed her and was happy to see in her face that she was expecting exactly that from him. I could use a little help here, her eyes were urging.

He smiled and stepped right into her personal space, and it seemed to him like a little relieved smile flew over her beautiful face. "Well," he said in a husky voice, "it has to be really strong for me." He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "And then, a wise man once said coffee should always be black as the devil, sweet as love, pure as an angel and..." he paused and ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip, and this time it was definitely not a gesture of nervousness – "...hot as hell."

Emma stared at his lips. "Sounds delicious..." she murmured, "that's exactly how I want it."

He raised his hand and ran his fingertips from her bare shoulder down her arm and watched with fascination the goosebumps blossom on her skin. "Are we still talking about coffee?" he asked.

She shook her head and focused her eyes on his again. "Not me," she replied.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still while they were just looking at each other with glittering eyes and mesmerized smiles. Then, as if on cue, they both moved in simultaneously for a kiss as hot and all-consuming as none they'd ever shared before. Hook pulled her close with a little thrust of his hips – raw, primal – and Emma grabbed the lapels of his vest as fiercely as she'd done only once before, when she'd kissed him for the very first time, in Neverland. He steered her against the kitchen counter with his body, and she followed his lead eagerly, literally hanging onto his lips. This time, he didn't resist his urge; with a quick and deft turn of his wrist he wrapped her bobbing ponytail around his hand – once, twice – and pulled at it. Not really roughly, but demanding enough to make her feel it all the way down to her toes. He took the lead and changed the angle of her head to deepen the kiss, and Emma made an involuntary, soft sound deep in her throat and rolled her hips against his body again, this time definitely with the purpose to feel him.

Suddenly, he felt the almost irrepressible urge to lift her onto the kitchen counter, and... but that would be really bad form; their first time should and would be celebrated in a bed. Before the temptation became too strong, however, he broke the kiss, very reluctantly. They rested their foreheads against each other for a moment and were both breathing heavily; her eyes were still closed.

"Emma..." Hook whispered after a while, and her eyes flew open.

"Killian..." she replied breathlessly and took his face in both hands. "I want that coffee. Now." Damn, her vice was actually urging. "You know what coffee means," she added.

Only for one brief moment, the gentleman in him contemplated to ask her if she was really sure, but then he dismissed it. She looked like she'd never before been as ready for anything than she was now for this, for him. Emma tough-lass Swan was making eyes at him, and God help him, if those were not bedroom eyes, he didn't know. He grinned happily and, in a sudden move, swept her up in his arms, looking around searchingly.

"Where do I take you?" he asked almost matter-of-factly.

Emma laughed – girlishly, carefree, happily. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and started to kiss the side of his throat, scrape her teeth lightly across his scruff. "My room," she replied. "Upstairs." She tilted her head back to throw him a sultry glance. "And then straight to heaven and back."

Without further ado, he headed for the stairs. "You are quite the demanding lass now, aren't you, Swan?" he chuckled.

"I thought you were a hell of a captain," she teased.

"You shall see," he promised and took two stairs in a step on his way up to the upper floor.

Emma directed him to her room, and they both laughed breathlessly while he kicked the door shut behind them with the heel of his boot. Then suddenly, in the middle of the room he stood rooted to the spot, still carrying her in his arms. It felt like time was frozen, and Hook couldn't believe this was really, actually happening. After chasing this woman for so long, pining for her, risking his life for her, saving her life and having her save his; after having fallen in love with her along the way – slowly, deeply, irrevocably – and after all those obstacles that had been put in their way, it was really going to become true now.

"Killian?" she asked softly.

He focused on her, looked at her intensely and seriously, with that little smile that showed only in his eyes. Then he told her almost solemnly: "I shall take you wherever you want to go, my love."

Emma averted her eyes for a moment, so much had his words touched her; then she smiles back at him. "To bed would be a good start."

There was nothing more left to say. He carried her over to her bed and slowly lowered her down, and before her body had touched the mattress, they were already deeply lost in another passionate kiss, and not long after they'd entered the room, the floor in front of her bed was covered with their clothes. They were meticulously unbuttoned, hastily unzipped, unhooked and unlaced with trembling fingers and under adoring eyes; slid down gently, shrugged off impatiently, pulled off almost achingly slowly.

Fingers curled in hair, sheets and around flesh; lips caressed curves, hands explored hidden sensitive spots, tongues brushed over every inch of exposed, feverish skin. Breaths and sweat mingled, bodies searched and found their perfect sync, and moans and groans, sighs and cries broke the silence of Emma's tiny bedroom.

Hook did just as she'd asked and led her straight to heaven and back, twice. The first time he took her gently and slowly, even carefully. He was almost anxious not to let his passion take him over completely; anxious to show her that in spite of his burning desire to make her his completely, this meant so much more to him than just the assuaging of a physical hunger; anxious to make her feel all his love and adoration and devotion. And he didn't fail: the way he kissed her, touched her, caressed her and looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him while he was making love to her almost brought her to tears and nearly overwhelmed her with emotions.

The second time he was already more confident, less afraid to take control and make the seas a little more bumpy. He gave her all he had, all of his unbound ardor and lust, claimed her and took her fiercely, roughly almost; and this time he brought her to breathe fire and swear and scratch like a hellcat while begging for more at the same time, crying out his name and falling apart beneath him, in his arms.

It took them several minutes to recover from that wild spree of pillaging and plundering, and they both needed quite a few moments before they were able to move as much as a muscle or utter coherent words.

"Was that coffee to your liking?" Hook finally asked, still buried inside her, his voice hoarse and deep and still laced with passion.

Emma smiled up at him, drinking in the sight of his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks and his eyes, oh God, his eyes, that were of a dark midnight blue now. "Delicious," she replied, still a little breathlessly, "the best I ever had."

If she had expected a tease from him now or a smirk with some smug reply about his infinite amorous skills – and damn, he hadn't disappointed her – , she'd been royally mistaken. On his face blossomed a careful, tiny smile, so genuine and sincere and happy that it made her heart clench painfully in her chest. He bore his eyes into hers, and for the life of her she wouldn't have been able to look away, even if she'd wanted to. "I'm not going to hurt you, Emma," he said quietly, almost solemnly, and she knew it was a vow. "Ever."

Damn, Emma had to swallow and could even feel tears sting in the corners of her eyes, and that was so cheesy, but then she didn't care. That man had seen every side of her, especially the weak and vulnerable one, and he'd never taken advantage of it. She knew she was completely safe with him; she could even lay her heart at his feet, and she knew he wouldn't harm it but guard it with his life. In fact, that was exactly what she'd done.

"I know," she simply answered and smiled with shiny eyes, putting her left hand to his scruffy cheek and gently tracing her thumb across his scar, wiping away a tiny droplet of sweat telling of their act of frantic passion. She shook her head slightly, an expression of disbelief and awe on her face.

"What is it?" Hook inquired softly, with a frown.

"God, I love you," Emma blurted out and snorted an embarrassed little laugh at herself. "What did you do to me?"

Her open and unashamed display of utter devotion – there was no other word he could think of, and Killian Jones was never at a loss for words – threw him completely off track; yes, she had told him already that she loved him before, right after she'd restored his heart into his chest, but the way she'd voiced her feelings right now went far beyond that. Although she seemed perfectly comfortable with it, Hook didn't want to risk her getting scared by her own courage, so he decided to play it light. He bent down, brushed a kiss on her neck, raised his eyebrows in a deliberate tease and grinned smoothly.

"Well, Swan..." – he rolled his tongue through his mouth in that lewd way of his – "before you beg of me to do it again to you – which I'm sure you will – , I'm afraid I'm going to need a few minutes of recovery."

Emma's eyes widened, and she couldn't help but laugh, well aware of what he was doing. "Pirate!" she hissed in fake disgust and gave him a firm push against his chest, and he rolled off of her with a throaty laugh.

"Apologies, my love," he chuckled, "but you'll have to concede that you walked right into that one." Before she could reply, he snuggled close to her side and put his arm almost protectively over her chest, pulling her close into him. "You had my heart in your hands at your mercy to crush, and you know you still do," he told her almost casually, and she melted a little more inside, although she already felt like mush. Then he closed his eyes with a sigh. "I was serious about the recovery, though."

She shook her head at him and at herself again – how did I get so lucky? – and nuzzled the side of his throat. "Pirate," she repeated in a whisper so tender that it sounded like the term of endearment it actually was.

It was the best feeling of the world, just laying there and forgetting the world, forgetting everything around them and just enjoying the moment, the closeness, the sated feeling of happiness, and without being aware of it, they both thought back to the same moment; a moment not so long ago in the woods of Storybrooke, after fighting yet another fight. Be patient, he thought. Damn, the saying good things come to those who wait had never been truer. Quiet moments, she thought, I'm never again gonna waste a single one of them. She could have stayed like this forever.

But Emma just couldn't get enough of him, and she wasn't even embarrassed about it; so, after she could muster enough strength and her aching muscles were obeying her again, she almost sneakily climbed on top of him, whispering into his ear: "Recovery is over."

Hook was indeed ready for the next round, but nevertheless still so exhausted himself that he gladly granted her the lead this time, absolutely thrilled by her open and unashamed display of primal desire and plain, simple want.

He put his hand and hook to her hips and gladly left it up to her to take him to heaven this time. When she started to work her magic on him, he just asked with a throaty chuckle: "Are you trying to kill me already in our first night, Swan?"

She steadied herself with both hands pressed to his muscular thighs behind her back and replied: "How many times did you brag about being good at surviving?" When he snorted his little laugh, she added in a sultry voice: "Now's the time to prove it, Captain."

Of course, at some point he did contribute fairly well to her efforts, and soon, their sighs and groans and heavy breathing filled the room again. Afterward, Emma collapsed on top of him with a sigh and simply stayed there like she was, legs entangled with his, her body splayed across his flat stomach, her head resting on his chest, right above his heart, where she enjoyed hearing its strong and steady beating that would soon lull her into sleep. Could life get any better? While he caressed her slightly damp hair, she let the fingertips of her right hand brush almost absentmindedly over the delicate skin between the sheath that held his hook and the crook of his left elbow.

Her body felt sore in all the right places, whereas her heart and soul felt healed and light and whole. All her nerve endings were still thrumming in the aftermath of the sensual feast and explosion of pleasure she'd just experienced; she'd been desiring Killian Jones with a fierce intensity for a long time – embarrassingly enough, even before she'd fallen in love with him. Many times, many sleepless nights, she'd tried to imagine how it would be to feel his fingers on her bare skin, to run her hands over his well-toned body and bury her face against his always-exposed chest, deeply inhaling his scent; how it would feel to have his sinful lips, his wicked tongue, trace a path of fire along her body and to roll her hips against his, feeling him move inside her, take her hard and fast, then gently and slowly. Turned out that nothing could have prepared her for how it had really felt. Yes, she'd always suspected that making love to him would be wild and passionate and tender at the same time; but no, she'd never dreamed of being swept off her feet and simply overwhelmed like this. And she'd certainly never dreamed of falling so hard, so deeply and helplessly in love with him. And God help her, it felt wonderful. All of it.

She'd almost lost him, missed the chance of experiencing this and the happiness that was still to come; and what was even worse – she'd almost missed the chance to tell him how she felt, and she knew if he'd died at Gold's hands without ever hearing her put into words what he probably already knew, she'd never have forgiven herself. Instinctively, she held her breath for a moment and listened anxiously for his heartbeat again – yes, there it was, steady and strong – before lifting her head and pressing a kiss to his sternum.

"Swan?" Hook murmured, almost in response.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you want me to..." – she heard him clear his throat – "leave now? I mean, before your parents come home?"

Emma propped herself up on her elbows, folded her hands on his stomach and rested her chin on them, earnestly looking into his blue eyes. "Would you prefer to leave?" she asked back. "Or would you rather..." she paused only for the fraction of a second to lick her lips nervously, "...stay for breakfast?"

He actually blinked in disbelief. "You'd let me stay?"

She wanted to tell him what an idiot he was for asking that, for looking so puppy-ishly incredulous; because of course she would, how could she let him leave her now, that they had finally become one – she needed to find out now, after they'd finally made love, what it felt like to fall asleep in his arms and to wake up in his arms... she wanted to tell him all that, but then she supposed he'd understand her anyway – because, after all, she was an open book to him, right? So, she just slid up along his body and kissed him and smiled and simply replied: "Yeah." For a moment, she reveled in the pure happiness spreading on his face, illuminating it, then she teased: "My father might want to punch you in the face though... are you ready for that?"

Hook pursed his lips and tilted his head in a fatalistic shrug. "I'm sure he'll do that sooner or later anyway. Might as well get it over with."

They both laughed, and he pulled her into his arms, close to his heart, and barely five minutes later they were asleep.

Shortly after every sound from upstairs had faded, David and Mary Margaret returned into the dark apartment. Immediately, David scanned the room. "Looks like she isn't home yet?" he remarked and threw a frowning glance at his watch.

His wife spotted the two mugs on the kitchen counter and smiled. "Looks like she is," she contradicted in a singsonging voice and motioned her head to them.

"She brought him here for coffee," Emma's father grumbled and looked at the mugs. A dark cloud covered his handsome face when he remarked: "They are untouched? Why are they untouched?"

Mary Margaret shrugged. "Probably they changed their mind about the coffee", she suggested and threw a furtive glance at the stairs. Unlike her husband, who had never led a single's life before the first curse had been broken, she understood some things about dating and what a coffee invitation could lead to. Plus, she had witnessed how her daughter and the pirate behaved around each other; their mutual love was obvious, and it had just been a matter of time before they finally fell into each others' arms. And the lucky end of a crisis was always a good time for that.

David narrowed his eyes and took another look around again, a more thorough one this time. Then he spotted the black leather jacket hanging on the coat rack. "This is not my jacket," he growled and glared menacingly towards the stairs. "Are they..."

Emma's mother sighed. "David..."

He clenched his hands to fists. "She's my little girl, damn!" he blurted out. "I don't need to know about this!"

"David," Mary Margaret repeated softly. "Would you have preferred him to sneak out?"

"Sneak out?" he echoed. "Hook?" He snorted and growled reluctantly: "He'd never sneak out. Would be bad form." He almost spat the word out. Mary Margaret smiled and patted his shoulder, almost feeling sorry for him. David pointed his right index finger vaguely towards the leather jacket. "If he shows up at my breakfast table, I swear I'm gonna punch him in the face."

His wife rolled her eyes. "Oh, David, you love Hook, admit it." He threw her an outraged glance, and she added pointedly: "And so does Emma, and you know it. You're gonna do no such thing. You're gonna take a look at your little girl's happy face, and then you're gonna politely offer him a seat."

David folded his arms stubbornly and remembered how terrified and desperate the pirate had been when Emma had been in danger of freezing to death; and he hadn't forgotten the expression on the man's face when, right before the last curse had hit, he'd come to the sheriff's station because he wanted to see Emma one more time – thinking he was about to die, as David had learned later. He might be stubborn like his wife and the rest of the family, but he wasn't stupid; he recognized True Love when he saw it. So, after a while he grumbled: "Yeah, maybe that, too."

Slowly, only very slowly, Emma drifted into consciousness, and the first thing she felt was the smile curling her mouth. It wasn't the first time she woke up like this: with a vague sensation of happiness and a smile on her lips, because in her dreams she'd spent the night peacefully sleeping in Hook's arms after shared hours of unleashed passion. Alas, usually that pleasant feeling faded away soon, within a few precious moments, but today... she sighed and stirred a little, and damn – that must have been a really vivid dream, because she could actually feel a faint soreness between her legs, and that pillow she was hugging smelled and felt like- no, wait...

When the memory came back full force and the realization hit her that it was real this time, she opened her eyes and lifted her head that had been comfortably draped on her lover's chest, and found a pair of bright blue eyes looking directly into hers: twinkling, smiling, loving. The sneaky pirate had been watching her while she'd been asleep.

"Morning, beautiful," he drawled, his own voice still thick with sleep, and Emma felt it all the way down to her toes. "Why the smile? Must have been a really enjoyable dream," he teased and cocked his eyebrows.

"Maybe this time it turned out to be true," she replied nonchalantly.

Of course, he didn't miss the tiniest detail. "This time?" he echoed pointedly and smirked. "How many times have you been dreaming about this?"

"Hmmm," she hummed vaguely and let her left hand wander up from his hip, where it had been resting, to the side of his neck where her fingers played over his scruff in a light caress. "How many times have you?" she asked back.

He snorted a little laugh and moistened his lips. "Touché, Swan."

Emma propped herself up on her elbow and kissed him long and languidly on his perfect mouth. Gently, his hand cupped the back of her head. "Welcome to reality," she murmured softly with a smile when their lips parted again. This is real now. And it will stay real.

He regaled her with one of his heart-stopping smiles that were bright enough to light up the whole world. "Speaking of reality," he then said, "do you think your father has sharpened his sword by now?"

She chuckled. "There's only one way to find out."

Roughly twenty minutes later, they descended the stairs; Hook a little sheepishly and without his usual swagger, Emma leading the way downstairs, firmly holding his hand. She drew a deep breath when she saw that her parents were already there; David was sitting at the table with the morning paper and a brooding expression on his face, while Mary Margaret was making pancakes. Emma noticed with a smile that the breakfast table had been set for four people. Bless you, mom, she thought.

She raised her chin and called firmly: "Good morning!"

Hook cleared his throat and murmured under his breath something that sounded like a good morning, too. Emma grinned to herself and felt for him. David raised his eyes from the paper he hadn't really been reading and just threw a glare their way.

Mary Margaret turned around and replied brightly: "Emma, Killian... Just in time for the pancakes!"

They descended the rest of the stairs, and now David slowly rose from his chair, a slightly menacing air about him.

"David..." Mary Margaret warned.

"Hook." he pressed through clenched teeth.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Dad..."

The pirate in question took a firm step towards the table, determined not to hide behind his girlfriend. He knew that deep down, the Prince probably didn't really disapprove of his daughter's choice anymore, but he had to admit that the situation was a little... well, delicate. In a soothing gesture, he raised his hand. "Look, mate, I..."

David narrowed his eyes. "Consider yourself punched in the face," he interrupted curtly.

Mary Margaret grinned to herself while Hook raised his eyebrows in a questioning way, then he swallowed and nodded without further reply.

"Now have a seat," David went on and motioned almost brusquely to the fourth chair before he grumpily added: "Mate."

"Aye," Hook murmured and sat down, not forgetting to pull out the chair for Emma.

Mary Margaret swirled around with a big steamy pot in her hands and asked: "Coffee, anyone?"

She frowned a little cluelessly at Emma's hysterical laughter, but Hook, always the gentleman, didn't do so much as quirk an eyebrow while he raised his mug in Mary Margaret's direction with one of his most winning smiles and replied: "I'd be more than delighted, Milady."

---

Acknowledgements:

As always, a big thank you to my brainstorming beast, muse and good fairy Silvia who gets always bugged late at night.