Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Time," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes.
Emma observed him as sleep still invaded his body, taking his mind to the realms of dreams. She made out his factions with a sliver of light the moon provided. She'd grown accustomed to the lack of light in her, their room, during the countless of nights they would rock their bodies together and tire out each other until exhaustion would take over them. There were nights in which he would jerk slightly, try to stay away from her contact, of any contact really because it made the people invading his dreams seem more real. At times he'd mumble something, make a sound, but nothing comprehensible enough to be mistaken for a word and Emma wondered whom he'd be talking to. She could only guess it was his brother Liam or perhaps his father.
It was curious how deeply Killian would sleep. With him being a pirate she'd assume he, like herself, would be a light sleeper, but over their nights together she'd realized that it was quite hard to awake him before the sun was up, which was when his internal clock told him it was time to rise.
She'd eventually stopped calling him Hook as he was so much more than an animated villain. He was as capable as anyone else and, unless the actual hook was in her line of sight, she'd forget it was there. There were also no need for formalities; she would only call him "Captain" in a lighthearted joking manner. And Hook was so much more than his missing appendage; he was a friend, a lover…
But tonight there were no nightmares, nothing to disturb him. She observed his breaths leave his mouth as his chest would rise and fall with them. Emma could even hear his inhales and exhales in the dead of the night.
In
Out
In
Out
They reminded her of waves in the sea, long, calm exhales that would then recoil and curve back to create another wave with his breathing.
She traced his figure with her eyes first, what little the light illuminated his face. He was resting on his stomach with his head turned to face her, his hand on he belly and the other arm above his head.
The moonlight has a soft blue hue that vaguely reminded Emma of the darkness of the sea. She then drifts from the tangibility of his skin to the memories he is reluctant to tell her. Whenever he does share about himself it is slowly, carefully choosing what details to spare her of because he would spare her of all of them. He doesn't want to share his pain by revisiting his memories; he instead wants to protect her, to take care of her because she completes him in so many ways he feels as if he must protect the precious jewel he's acquired.
She'd shown him so much, at first indirectly through the love towards her child and her never ending fight to protect her family, and later on by including him in her family. When he first met Emma her every move had getting back to Henry as a final destination. In that love he'd seen himself reflected, the same way he would have done anything for Baelfire.
He had not diverted from his thirst for revenge to impress Emma, but rather he had realized through her that it was not worth it. She slowly guided him to be a better person for her, yes, but ultimately for himself.
Killian wants to spare her from his suffering, because like him, he can see the pain reflected in her lost girl eyes and sees she already has enough. So he tells her of adventures, of what the sea was like, of happy memories with his brother as he was more of a father than a brother. He prefers making small talk about David working in the sheriff station or baby Neal. In days when he was gloomier he would honor Bae's memory and they would both open to one another and share their stories of the man that seemed to have died yesterday.
At first he was jealous when Emma would mention him. Not because he was a threat but rather that Bae had been with different parts of Emma that he would never be able to grasp. Killian would be jealous because he wishes to be with Emma completely but as they spent time together and he could hold her in his arms he realized that he would never give up what he has now to what Bae had.
She doesn't particularly like when he closes off or changes the topic suddenly but it is also hard for her to explain her years in foster care or lack thereof, so she would be a hypocrite force him to open up.
They approached things differently but they grew up similarly, marked by the abandonment of the people they loved, parents, siblings, lovers… and so they built walls to never be hurt by the loss of someone again. Both of them never knew home until they found each other, instead using a boat, a car, as shelter because it enabled them to flee and when you are unstable and afraid to commitment as these two, it is perfect to live in (but it will never be a home). They were raised; or rather they raised themselves, in different contexts but in the end it was the same, and no matter how much they hated it, it made them who they are today.
Emma looked at his strong black hair, it is messy, in chunks going in the directions her fingers had directed as she had tugged at previously while they had made love.
She noticed the wrinkles that are usually present in his forehead as he speaks are absent. He was completely relaxed; his eyelids are shut but delicately, softly. She continues her visual exploration of him with his straight and elegant nose and follows through his stubble to his pink lips she has kissed so many times by now.
Emma raised her left arm and used a finger to trace his exposed back from his neck to his shoulder dragging the sheet that covered them both along with her movements. She hadn't realized she had turned sideways to observe him, his hand now resting softly against her hip. Her slim fingers softly, barely noticeably, traced his arm. They slowly reached his hand.
With her index finger she traced the contour of his hand. Going through the side of his thumb and following the curves and lines of his hand. It was rough, calloused. Emma guesses it is because of all of the years he spent sailing. Emma can only guess, can only imagine what Killian went through at sea.
She implies that before becoming Captain he would have worked the ship, cleaning, pulling the sails, or even as a cook she mused herself. He must have learned to make those fish & chips somewhere. She thought to herself. But in the end it was labour work, physical in nature, and it had tortured his body leaving scars in his forearms and hands.
He was naturally handsome, a symmetrical and strong bone structure, strong, thick black hair, eyes the color of the sea… And the physical work he'd endured only enhanced his body, making him slim but solid. It definitely did pay off.
The blue moonlight was shifting subtly to a warmer orange-yellow that invaded the room and caressed their skin making it glow. The light indicated the night was over. The sun rose slowly and Emma mirrored its movements, dragging her palm up his chest, following random patterns up towards the juncture between his shoulders and neck.
"Good morning, love," he whispered as he reached for her, pulled her flush to his body and he moved his nose following the angular shape of her jaw, his stubble brushing against the delicate skin of her neck, up until behind her ear where he placed a soft kiss and breathed her scent in. She ran all ten of her fingers through his dark hair, messing it further.
He was the sea, always in movement, always uneasy even in the sunniest of days, full of ripples but also swift, dark but beautiful nonetheless.
He dragged his teeth down her throat towards her chest and stopping to nibble softly at her clavicle. Her body naked but for the two thin chains she always wore as necklaces. He kissed them and moved up her body to her thin lips. The blonde moved her neck to meet the kiss before he could reach down, anticipating his move.
She brought her hands down from his hair caressing in her way his neck, his shoulders and his torso.
The dark haired man held Emma, his arms around her and his hand spread on her back. He held her as if trying to prove that she was real because at times he could not believe she was real, that he had found her and he was allowed to hold her against him.
The kiss was soft and unhurried. As if they had all the time in the world. Emma had his bottom lip between hers and pulled on it softly, dragging it between her teeth.
His hand moved from her back to her hip, tickling her on his way, making her break the kiss to giggle softly. She then grabbed his neck and pulled him towards her and made a second deeper kiss, this time their mouths were open and Emma traced his teeth with her tongue. He bit it softly, playing with her.
The former pirate placed his forearm next to the right side of her head and hovered over her as he kissed her. The hand that was sprayed against her back moved to trace the stretch marks in Emma's otherwise scar free milky white skin.
His eyes were still closed and he craved to touch her, to connect with her, to feel her, as he was still half asleep.
He lowered himself against her body and feels her pebbled nipples against his chest. The hand that was tracing lines against her hip moved up against her muscled stomach that clenched as his fingers moved, from tickles or from arousal, she doesn't know, across the bumps in the ribs until it reached her left breast.
The dark haired man cupped it, massaged softly and traced her areola with his thumb getting closer to her nipple. She inhaled sharply and moaned softly when he finally pinches and rolls her nipple with his thumb and index fingers.
He grinded his hips against her drenched cunt releasing some of the pressure that was building but not even close to enough.
She felt his erection on her lower abdomen; a hand reached down to grab it and pumps him slowly, teasing.
His breath grows heavier against her cheek, panting softly, in his distraction she flipped them over, her shins against the sheets and her knees on the sides of his hips.
She kissed his jaw, open-mouthed, her tongue caressing his stubble. The kisses were dragged down his throat, to his clavicle, through his chest, to his navel where she felt his abs clench in anticipation.
Emma kissed down to the inside his thigh and nibbled there. She smirked when his dick twitched and decided to stop her torture so she licked her way to kiss the base of his cock. She created a path of wet kisses to the tip of it where she sucked gently.
She then took him in her mouth but did not suck, bobbing her head slightly, letting his dick glide between her lips. Killian combed her blonde hair, putting it aside and away from her face but without holding her down. She sped up slightly and sucked, feeling his hard dick against her cheeks. Sometimes he would glide against her teeth but he doesn't mind when her tongue is flat against his shaft and then swirling against the tip.
Still, the pace was not enough and every move heightened his senses, torturing him because the feelings were too much but at the same time not nearly enough. Her mouth felt so good but he does not want to get lost in the feeling because he wants to have her, wants to love her.
"Emma" he breathes. But she ignoring his call and moved to lick his balls. "Emma" he repeats louder this time, making her look up at him. "Come here"
And she does, she straddles him, grinds against his stomach leaving a wet trail of her arousal. When she gets tired of this she takes his shaft in her hand and guides it into herself.
And if the feeling was good before now it is unbelievable.
She sunk slowly onto him, not because it was hard (because she was sopping wet) but because she wanted to enjoy it and she groaned and her body arched slightly and he can't stop looking at how the light, that now has a light hint of orange but is mostly yellow, hits her pale skin and she is beautiful, she is gorgeous.
As she grows accustomed to his size inside her, she starts building a rhythm to an unheard song. Her hands spread against his pectorals, digging against his chest hair when the pressure began to be just right. Her upper body remained still and she undulated her hips. Her tits bounced slightly and he raised his upper body to trap one between his lips.
And she moved up and down his shaft, not only grinding, and it felt so good, filling her and stretching her and he then raised his hips, meeting her thrusts halfway. She was getting close and he's biting her breast and grasping her ass, pulling her to meet their thrusts.
Emma is hardly moving anymore, her back arched and hands digging into Killian's hair, pulling desperately as he thrust into her frantically, faster and faster until he fell back to the mattress with his arms still wrapped around her. His speed continued to grow and the change of angle allowed Emma to get closer to the edge even faster.
She came with a sharp gasp, her thighs trembling on his sides. His forearm in her lower back and his hand on her hip holding her in place as he continued to thrust, wanting to be careful not to hurt her but too lost in his own ecstasy to stop now.
And with the sight of her hands in her golden mane, shaking gently above him, he came, grunting, five fingers digging into her hip, probably leaving bruises that would show later in the day underneath layers of soft clothing. But he does not think about that now, he can't while she is still quivering above him and she's beautiful and he loves her, he loves her so much and he needs her close so he moves his hand to her back to push her down against his chest and he doesn't care that they are sweaty and they smell of sex because he loves her and he needs to hold her in his arms now that he can.
Reviews and comments are welcome! This was my first story so tell me what you think.