We all know they wouldn't have been able to keep their hands off each other…
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One Night of Magic Rush
…
It takes her a little while to place it, the thumping ache in her chest. At first she assumed it was due to all the crying, her body being absolutely exhausted by the tears of accepting her true love had been taken from her. Then she wondered if it was a physical injury, a cracked rib from Zelena's magic or any number of things that happened in the Underworld.
But it's as she and Killian bump into walls and doors, tearing coats from arms and kicking off shoes, that she realises why her chest is in so much pain.
She had forgotten what it was to draw breath without the threat of it being the last one by his side. And now that she can kiss him and love him and hold him in her arms, she knows that she can breathe easy again. And it hurts in the best way.
Her hands scramble to get his shirt undone, her lips sliding across his in frustrated determination to have him naked and pressed up against her, to have their heartbeats aligned and their breaths in perfect sync. Her coordination failing her, she grips each side of his shirt and pulls, cotton tearing, buttons skittering. He's barely patient enough to even get to the buttons on her shirt, hook ripping through the fabric with no regard for salvaging the garment. Like she cares.
Her chest is heaving with the effort of drawing breath after breath of this new air, untainted by misery and death. This is their moment and theirs alone, bare chests pressed together, their bodies thrumming with energy and emotion. He kisses her again, drawing her sharp gasp into his own lungs and exhaling through his nose.
"I love you so much, Emma."
She nods, her lips already marking a trail down his neck, his skin damp and hot under her touch. "Love you too," she murmurs, eager to have him all to herself, her hands making quick work of his jeans before moving to her own, a frustrated grunt escaping her when it's difficult to get undressed at the pace she wants to.
He chuckles at her impatience which only serves to aggravate her more, until, with her back pressed up against the wall outside their bedroom, she simply waves a hand through the air and they are gloriously naked.
"Gods," he whispers, "You are a marvel, Swan."
She smiles up at him, cupping his face in her hands and meeting him halfway for an electrifying kiss. Sparks burst like fireworks under her skin and she knows he can feel it too. And she loves him so damn much that it hurts her to not be surrounded by his everything; his soul, his touch, his hand and his hook, his kisses, his intense stare – him. Just him.
Stumbling backwards, they arrive at their bed, the first occasion that it's had a purpose, the covers tantalisingly untouched, her time as the Dark One unmarred by sleep and the days that followed his death spent on her couch rather than allowing herself the comfort of being happy in the house that he had chosen for them.
But now, oh now, she leans back, bouncing softly on the mattress as her back hits the covers, smiling widely as he parts her legs, crawling between them to kiss, lick and suck his way up her body, leaving a wet trail of soft pink marks all over her skin. Her hips roll up off the bed in a wave-like motion, cresting and falling like the ocean he so loves.
She just wants to feel all of him within all of her. As his trailing lips reach her throat, her mound comes into contact with the thick heat of him between their bodies. She hisses and he moans, the feelings rushing through them almost overwhelmingly good. Her eyes are in danger of rolling back in her head with how amazing he's making her feel and she wonders if it will be like this always now. Now that they know what their love means.
"Emma," he whispers reverently in the space just below her ear, sending shivers pulsing through her, "Do you feel that?"
Her eyes meet his and she knows exactly what he's feeling. "Like your heart is going to explode?" she asks, her voice trembling.
He nods, "I can't explain it…"
"It hurts but it feels amazing. Like it's so full of love; so full it can't take any more."
"So full," he agrees, pressing his lips to hers once more before taking her with a quick stroke of his hips.
And if it hurt before, being joined with him feels as though she's just taken every breath she has left all at once. "Oh god," she moans, eyes squeezing shut against the tears she can feel gathering there. He's perfect, he's everything in this moment, he is buried inside her heart and soul and she's having a very tough time remembering a time when it wasn't like this.
He returns her sentiment in kind, his fast breaths panting small bursts of love all over her skin. And then he snaps his hips back and forward once, taking her breath completely away along with his own. He feels so good inside of her that she can't help but cry out again, wrapping her legs around his waist as he leans into her, desperate to be as close as possible to each other.
"Don't stop," she urges, feeling him start to pick up the pace. Her nails rake over his back softly, a gentle encouragement to continue making her magic spark and burn this way. She never wants it to end, but she's already there, already teetering on the edge of oblivion. And she can feel his control breaking as well, cracking and dissipating as they kiss whatever skin they can lay claim to, as their fingers try to touch every inch of flesh they can reach.
He bites her shoulder as he comes, flashes of pain lighting up behind her eyelids until it turns to a burning inferno of intense passion and she follows him over almost immediately, his softening length still pulsing inside of her as her inner walls clench and her entire body flushes pink with the intense waves of pleasure.
She's still moving against the bed, her body drawing every last bit of ecstasy from this moment as she can. He makes a move to shift off her, but she doesn't want him to get anywhere. There's a sticky mess between her thighs, she feels sweaty and exhausted, and she just wants to lay here with him for five minutes more.
Her fingers trace lazy patterns into his heated skin as he continues to mouth at her jawline, and it's perfect.
"You know," he breathes against her neck, "Zeus sent me precisely where I belong."
Smiling, she nods, letting the tears of relief and love cloud her eyesight as they make themselves known. "Yeah," she agrees, silently vowing to never let that favour be in vain. She owes a lot to the god atop Olympus, "He did."
They eventually clean up then climb back into bed, curling up around one another, not willing to part again anytime soon. The ache in her chest is less intense now, but it's there, reminding her how much love is in her life.
With a smile on her face for the first time in what feels like forever, Emma closes her eyes to sleep. And for the first time in months, she actually does.
…
Thoughts?