They lay in bed together well into the morning, hearing the muffled sounds of Storybrook coming to life beneath them, at Granny's. Emma was in that limbo place between sleep and wake, where her mind was awake enough to enjoy his hand lightly running over her skin, and asleep enough to feel she was floating.

Damn. This is nice. She thought, not opening her eyes. Not wanting to break the moment. After all the time they—ok, she—wasted, she found herself just wanting as much of this now as they could carve out. Alone, without family or friends and the knowing smiles, and without evil to fight, and without the world to save, or mistakes to fix… Just this.

This was good stuff.

"Emma…" His voice came from behind her, smooth and low. She didn't think she would ever get sick of the sound of it.

"Mmm?"

His hand kept flowing over her curves, from her neck and shoulder, down her body to the dip of her waist, up her rounded hip…and back. Lightly, barely there…

"I want to ask you something, love." He said, leaning into the back of her neck, placing wet kisses there, causing goose bumps to appear on her arms. Oh yes, neck kisses… she curved her head to invite more.

"Ok…"

"About why you came back to the Jolly Rodger with Hook…"

Emma came all out of her limbo sleep. Oh. That. Damn.

"Hmm?" was all she could say. That's it Emma. Play dumb. He will totally buy that.

He pulled her over onto her back, and made an almost-entertained-but-not-quite face at her. "Hmm? Come now. I'm sure you recall the event of which I speak, Swan. It was just a few short days ago." He cocked a dark brow.

"Do I?" She made a face, as if she were searching for an answer… He looked only a little amused at her shenanigans. He leaned down and took her bottom lip in his teeth, and bit down lightly.

"Ow!" She yelped.

"Tell me about it. Or there will more of that, Swan. You have many very bitable areas."

She laughed, holding him off with her hands on his firm chest and scratchy face. "What do you want to know?"

"Why did you go back to the ship?" His blue eye widened at her, but his lips still held mirth.

Emma huffed, as if it should all be very obvious to him. "Well, I mean, he—you—can be very persistent. And the truth is…" She sighed dramatically, "Well. I ran out of moves."

"You ran out of moves." He deadpanned. "Really?"

Her eyes widened in innocence. "Yes. It was a lotta work, you know!"

"A lotta work." He repeated.

"Yes!" She nodded seriously. "You know, you told me yourself…"

"What? What did I tell you?"

"Well, he told me…" She hedged.

"Emma…" He lowered his head down to her nipple, opening his mouth, and baring his teeth suggestively. His eyes never leaving hers.

"Well he said he wasn't a gentleman." She reported before his teeth could meet their mark. She shook her head, regretfully.

He pushed himself up on his elbow, his look incredulous now. She had to press her lips not to laugh.

"Wasn't a gentleman?" he repeated. His expression became more pensive, the levity evaporating a bit. His brow knit. "How so?"

Smooth fingers running up her bare thigh, how so. Circles traced on wet panties… Not a gentleman at all...

She refocused on Killian's face above her. Oh, he might not like to know all that… She was tempted to kiss his worry away, to smooth the cresses on his forehead. But she was having too much fun teasing him.

"Oh, you know… You know how you used to be, I'm sure. And I mean, you were always—as you often say—devilishly handsome…" she let her meaning float in the air.

He looked at her. Clearly less and less amused.

"You don't say."

"Oh, I do say." She smirked at him.

"Were you going to sleep with him—me?" He came right out and asked. His voice pitched higher than she'd ever heard before.

Emma sighed. "I don't think sleeping is really what you had in mind."

At that he suddenly wrapped his arms around her, and flipped her over to lay pressed on top of him, holding her so she couldn't get away. She smiled big now, and looked down at his mess of dark bed-head and sea-sky tanned face against the white pillowcase. His eyes so fucking blue…

Like I'd try to get away. But she squirmed a little…just because.

"I do think you are trying to make me jealous, Savior." He raised his lips to her throat, and nibbled. Their naked bodies touched along every inch, sheets tangled in their legs. He turned his head and lightly bit her shoulder. "And yes. It's working."

"All I'm saying, "She breathed out, less in control of her words now, as her mind started to become a little buzzed off the feel of him against her, "Is, it's a good thing I didn't know what you were packing, Pirate. A girl can only have so much self-control…"

He stilled. His head slammed back down to rest on the pillow. He looked at her a moment in disbelief. She grinned.

She wiggled her hand down and grasped him in her fist, boldly meeting his gaze, and squeezed him a little for good measure.

He groaned.

"Emma Swan. This Pirate has been—packing, was it?—" He asked, raising his brow again in question.

Emma nodded merrily in agreement, greatly enjoying herself. "—has been packing the whole time you've known me… If only I had known it would've made a difference. But then, I am a gentleman. Now."

She giggled, and lowered her lips to his. They kissed slowly, leisurely, deeply. He grew very hard in her hand. Their breathing became heavy… all the jokes were over.

"Kissing you is like drinking sweet wine…" He said, against her lips, "And I want to be drunk forevermore."

Oh man. That was maybe the best thing ever heard in her whole damn life.

She pulled away from their kiss, and their eyes met. His lids were heavy with lust. She thought again that he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, not just "devilishly handsome"—beautiful.

"I want you." She simply stated. "You Killian. That's the way it is."

Before he could answer her, she lowered her mouth to his chest, kissing him, smelling his Killian smell, feeling his soft, dark chest hairs curl against her cheeks…She thought she could hear his heart beating. His breathed deeply, saying her named on the exhale, pulling his hand through her hair.

She went lower and lower, covering his skin with kisses and licks, enjoying the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with every touch she gave him, and the unconscious sounds of desire he made. Lower she went, until her hands and lips covered his cock, with just the right pressure and wet warmth to make him buck his hips, and harshly whisper her name.

His skin was silky, and he tasted like salt and he tasted like her.

The thought caused butterflies of need to tickle her stomach. She ran her tongue all along the length of him, her fingers circling him, working and massaging him firmly. Her eyes ran up along his body to his face, which was pushed back into the white pillow, eyes shut, touched by the late morning sunlight coming in through the sheer curtains…

She wanted to make him drunk on her, if that's what he wanted. She wanted to give him a morning he'd not soon forget… and wash his mind of any teasing or doubt or worry of whom she wanted to be with. He'd waited so long for her to know—for her to admit—where she belonged. He followed her through portholes, and into danger time and time again.

He'd sold his ship for her.

The knowledge was always in her mind now, speaking truth to the power and depth of his feelings for her. Someday she thought she might get used to it…

She removed her lips and hands, to the sound of his moaning disappointment. His head came up off the pillow, his eyes unfocused in all their azure glory. Slowly she straddled him, but with her back to him.

She came up on her knees, and felt powerful in her ability to please him when she heard him groan deeply, swearing—bloody helllll—as she knew he watched her slide down on him, from behind.

His hand came immediately to her hip, and grasped it in a firm squeeze. She shook her long messy blonde hair down her back, feeling it feather against her skin.

"Oh my gods, Emma…" She heard.

With each slick slide up and down, he huffed, or moaned, or made some noise that told her she what she was doing was driving him to the edge. She imagined what he saw, her heart shaped ass, her hips, her hair, his dick entering her over and over…

Her fingers found herself and began to work with the rhythm they found. She rocked and rolled her hips against him in seductive circles, building her own orgasm, feeling him deeply inside her. He cursed again. She heard herself moan as she crested, trembling. She tossed her head back, feeling the sensual feel of her hair all the way down her ass, the ends brushing his stomach.

It was all he could take. He came hard, bucking up into her in short, powerful thrusts, holding her hip down on him, as he spilled into her. She had yet to hear him yell out to her like that, in undeniable and helpless pleasure. It caused one final, powerful roll within her that had her matching his sound with a call of his name.

"Killian!"

It seemed to last more than a moment, the coming down off the high. Each of them feeling their bodies spark over and over where they met, until at last just a warmth and tingle remained. Neither of them spoke, each trying to catch their breath, feeling him still semi-hard inside her slickness.

Finally he said, deeply and reverently, from behind her, "Holy Hell."

She fell back off him, laying with her back on his sweaty chest. His arms quickly encircle her, his hand finding her breast to hold. He rested his rough cheek against her head.

"I hope no one heard us." Emma said. Was it just her, or did it sound quieter down at Granny's?

"Love, I think my old self heard us, all the way back in time." He murmured, the words making his chest rumble against her back. He kissed her hair.

"And trust me. He'd be so sodding jealous, the poor bastard."