My husband is a licensed pyrotechnician who shoots community and event display fireworks, and he kept suggesting I write a fireworks inspired fic. Problem is… the fireworks business isn't as glamorous as it sounds. When I mentioned all of this to a friend, she encouraged me to write a fic that focused on what hot, sweaty, dirty work it can be. Then the muse started whispering naughty firework related puns and innuendo into my ear, and viola! A fireworks au just in time for the 4th of July!

All the love to ilovemesomekillianjones for being a kick ass beta, and to my person, artistic-writer, for helping me come up with yet another fic title. *mwah*

"Jones!" Robin called out from one of the open bay doors. "Someone in the office to see you!"

Killian groaned and pulled out his bandana, mopping his brow before returning it to his back pocket. Temperatures in the warehouse had climbed to upwards of 95 degrees with all the doors open on this sweltering July afternoon. They were three days out from the fourth, and it was all hands on deck to pull shells and equipment for the numerous firework shows they had scheduled. Their last cargo container had been late, detained by customs… again, Liam, his older brother, had oversold the season, which had them scrambling to get enough shooters licensed in time, then he'd gone and landed himself in the hospital with appendicitis, and leaving Killian to oversee the entire fireworks company on his own.

If he had to schmooze one more ATF agent, or city official, he was absolutely going to lose it.

He didn't even bother to grab his official Jones Pyrate-Technics shirt, long since discarded in the muggy heat of the warehouse, before exiting the building to meet with whoever it was that had the indecency to interrupt a firework crew seventy-two hours before their biggest day of the year. Probably another community sponsor who thought their contribution towards the cost of their city's pyrotechnics display earned them some sort of VIP treatment and behind the scenes access. Well, they were about to be sorely disappointed.

Killian, however, was not.

Entering the office he was stopped short by the presence of a golden haired goddess in a black pencil skirt and red, satin, sleeveless blouse, tapping her stilettoed toe impatiently. Killian recognized her immediately. Emma Swan, Storybrooke's Tourism Director, in charge of overseeing the city's Fourth of July celebrations, from the parade, to the carnival, to the fireworks display. A display that had been disastrous the year before in the hands of a competing fireworks company. A disaster that, though extremely bad form, hadn't been a surprise to Liam or Killian when they'd heard who'd been in charge of the show - The Great and Powerful Awes Pyrotechnics. Their company name was disastrous enough.

"Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Killian cooed as he sauntered into the air-conditioned office.

She turned towards him at the sound of his greeting, and a smirk ticked at his lips at the brief wide-eyed appreciation she gave his bare chest before snapping her eyes to meet his.

"You'll have to excuse my appearance, love," he offered, sounding every bit the apologetic gentleman. Until he narrowed his gaze at her and salaciously drawled, "Making fireworks is a hot, sweaty business, wouldn't you agree?"

She blinked several times in stunned response before throwing him a withering look. "I wouldn't know. I've never made fireworks, and neither have you. You only get them off the ground."

"Well, perhaps we could rectify that together." He took a few more swaggering steps into her personal space. "As you said, I'm quite good at getting things off… the ground."

Emma crossed her arms over her chest and popped a brow. "I don't recall saying you were any good at it. You've yet to prove it to me."

"Is that a challenge?" Killian grinned, running his tongue along his lower lip. "I do so love a challenge."

"How's this for a challenge," Emma breathed huskily, her green eyes sparkling now that she was fully engaged in their usual banter. "Convince me that it wasn't a mistake to hire an unknown fireworks company after last year's debacle, and I won't shove a lit three inch shell up your ass."

Killian couldn't help but chuckle at her aptly given threat. "I always knew there was a little pyro in you, Swan,"

"Seriously, Jones," Emma snapped, all humor vanishing from her demeanor. "I can't have another incident like last year. The mayor is all over me to ensure everything goes off without a hitch." She raised her hand to stay the quip dancing on his tongue. "And don't you dare make another cheeky comment. Both our asses are on the line here. I need you to convince me that there's nothing to worry about, so I can go back and do the same with Regina."

Killian took a step back, and gave her an apologetic smile and nod of understanding. "You're right, Swan. I can only imagine the strain you're under after the mess Walsh left you with last year."

Killian's jaw tightened and ticked at the mention of that despicable man's name. A disgrace and blight to the entire fireworks community, nothing better than a shyster who offered shoddy product without a lick of concern for the safety of his crews or spectators. Killian clenched his left hand, the scarred and mottled skin pulled uncomfortably, a painful reminder of the consequences that could occur when things went wrong in his industry. It was sometimes easy to forget that as wonderous and entertaining as fireworks were, they were in all actuality high level explosives that required the utmost respect and care when handling.

"Come. Why don't I give you a tour of the warehouse. You can see our process for pulling and prepping shows, and ask me whatever you'd like to help ease your mind."

Emma dropped her arms back down to her side, her expression softening in the face of his sincerity. "You'd really do that? I mean, I know you've got to be crazy busy."

"What sort of gentleman would I be if I left a lady in distress?"

"I am not in distress," Emma countered, earning her a pair of raised brows and cocked head from Killian. Huffing, she quipped, "So, now you're going to be a gentleman?"

Killian leaned into her space once more, and whispered, "I'm always a gentleman," giving her a wink before opening the office door and waving her towards the warehouse.

They found the building suspiciously vacant, and Killian realized Robin must have dismissed everyone for lunch. He led Emma through the labyrinth of bins that housed the various shells, cakes, mortars, and firing equipment, explaining their function and the protocols the company used to ensure the safety of crews and spectators alike. He noted her quick perusal of his hand during that particular commentary, but was relieved to see no pity in her gaze when her eyes met his afterward. Only a sense of understanding and confidence that the unspoken experience that had left his hand and forearm severely burned was more than enough assurance that safety was his top priority.

Their tour ended in one of the loading bays, where pallets of product and equipment were waiting to be loaded onto one of the company's trucks for transport to a shoot site. "And this," Killian gestured widely to the boxes and crates stacked around them, "is your show, love."

Emma stared slack jawed. "All of this?" Killian nodded, a proud grin working its way across his lips at her reaction. "This looks like way more product than we had last year."

"Then you got cheated last year," Killian stated with a hint of disdain. "With your budget, this is the quality of show you should have received… and will receive this year. Here," he grabbed a printout laying on top of one of the stacks and handed it to her, "this is an inventory of all the product we'll be using in your show, with a cost break down of each item."

Emma scanned the list, her eyes widening when she hit the aerials section. "Tens? You're shooting ten inch shells? Walsh said the best he could give me was eight inches."

Killian's lips and brows twitched. "Well, I can give you ten," he purred seductively, earning him an eye roll… and maybe a hint of a blush? He chuckled at her response and added, "You have the safety distance for tens. Actually, you have the distance for even bigger shells, but not the budget.

"How big could we go?"

Killian refrained from expressing the naughty quip tickling the tip of his tongue and replied, "You've clearance for up to a sixteen inch shell."

"And how much are those?"

"Two grand."

Emma shot him an astounded look. "Two grand?!"

"It's worth every penny, I assure you, but it's probably best that you don't have the budget for it."

"Why's that?"

Killian removed the list from her hands and placed it back atop the stacks before taking another step towards her. "Because once you experience something so spectacular it'll ruin you for every other experience thereafter."

Emma wet her lips, and her gaze narrowed as it darkened slightly. "Quite sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Years of experience, love."

"If you're so experienced," Emma murmured as he took another step closer, "then you'll know it's not nice to tease a lady with something outside her means."

"Perhaps a compromise is in order, then." Killian reached forward and brushed a section of her hair over her shoulder, enjoying the visible reaction erupting along her skin in response to his touch. A small shiver coursed through her, despite the heat of the warehouse that had started to cause beads of perspiration to gather at her collarbones. Killian swallowed back the impulse to lean over and run his tongue along them, or anywhere else she might permit him to explore.

"What did you have in mind?"

One more step and they found themselves pressed against the far wall of the cargo bay. "A small taste of what you could experience if you did decide to go all in."

"A small taste, huh?" Emma whispered against his lips.

"Just something to wet your whistle for the full experience I could offer you," he murmured before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her flush against him while their mouths devoured one another's.

Emma fisted her hand in the back of his hair, her other scratching along his still shirtless back. Killian made a mental note to put a shirt back on to hide the marks she was leaving before the crew returned. He then pushed all thought of anything except the hot slide of her mouth and tongue against his own, and the way her body responded to his roaming hands completely out of his mind.

With one hand braced against the wall behind her, he slid the other down her side. His thumb lightly grazed the side of her breast before coming to rest and digging into her hip. He hardened at the sound of the breathy moan she gave as his tongue traced a path along her jaw and down her neck. Nails imbedded themselves in the back of his shoulders, and he nipped at the tender flesh behind her ear. A groan escaped him when her hips bucked against his, and he moved his hand from her waist to toy with the hem of her skirt.

Before he could begin inching it up her thigh, the sound of a car door broke them from the sultry interlude that had them both panting and covered in a sheen of sweat, which had little to do with the raised mercury on the thermometer next to them.

"That was…"

"A promising start to the holiday weekend celebrations," Emma mused. She gently pushed against Killian's chest, moving him away so she could right herself before the faint voices that were filtering their way into the bay were joined by their counterparts, but not before running her fingertips through the matted hair on display there.

"A promising start, huh?" Killian smirked, guiding her back through the labyrinth, towards the main door and away from the approaching crew members.

"Very promising," she confirmed, her teeth sinking into her slightly swollen bottom lip before she added, "I can't wait for the actual fireworks."

"Trust me, love," Killian said, whispering into her ear as he reached behind her to grab his shirt hanging from a peg by the door. "Next time I'll have you seeing stars."

Emma stood behind the fire line, waiting for a member of the fireworks' crew to escort her to where everything had been set up for the evening's display. She'd had a number of conversations with Killian after the warehouse… incident. This would be the first time seeing him since that shared moment in the loading bay though, when he'd kissed her senseless with the plundering of his mouth and lit sparks under her skin with his touch: a pirate and a pyro, indeed.

A golf cart pulled up with a stout little man in a red knit cap behind the wheel. Red knit? In July? Really?

"Ma'am," the man greeted politely. "I'm William Smee. Mr. Jones asked me to come fetch you. He's overseeing an issue with the big mortars."

"What kind of issue?" Emma asked anxiously as she climbed into the passenger side of the cart. Smee only offered her an apologetic shrug as he drove them toward the shoot site.

After her tour of the warehouse, and Killian's thorough explanations and assurances of his company's safety protocols, most of Emma's reservations had been mollified. Regina's, Storybrooke's Mayor and Emma's boss, had not. Hence the several phone calls Emma had placed to Killian in the past two days that finally led him to inviting her to oversee the final walkthrough and safety checks with him. Which was why she was being escorted to the shoot site now, where an issue had apparently arisen. The news had Emma chewing at her lip the whole way to the far end of the field where the high aerials were set.

"Is everything okay?" Emma called out from the cart as Smee pulled them up to the edge of the racks.

"Well, Happy Independence Day to you too, Swan," Killian cheeked, sauntering over as she stepped out of the cart.

"I believe the day only marks independence from tyranny for one of us, Jones," Emma shot back. They'd already had a lively discussion about two British brothers owning a fireworks company whose main source of revenue was generated through displays that celebrated another country's freedom from their own. A discussion that had allowed her to goad Killian into adorable (and totally hot) displays of aggravation.

"I would have used your colorful expression from the other day, but Happy Fuck the British Day didn't seem appropriate… unless you're just referring to me."

Heat rushed up Emma's neck and settled on the apples of her cheeks at the reminder of the purposefully offensive remark she'd made to rile him up, and the connotations he'd just applied to it.

"Mr. Smee said there was an issue with the mortars."

Emma brushed past Killian and his damnable smirk, refusing to give his words anymore of a response than her red cheeks already had, and made her way towards the multi-colored tubes; some were situated in racks while others were only partially visible from being buried within the earth.

"No issue," Killian reassured her. "We just had one last mortar to bury, and the backhoe was a bit late. It's all handled now though, so we're just reloading the eights, tens, and twelves we'd removed while he dug the hole."

Emma had been pleasantly surprised when Killian had called her later the same day as her warehouse visit to inform her that he'd worked out a way to give her a couple of twelve inch shells. The small taste he'd promised that would hopefully entice her to try and get a bigger budget for the next year. One that could afford them the ability to shoot the biggest size shell the site would allow; a sixteen.

"I still don't get why you have to bury the eights and higher," Emma confessed as she watched Killian's guys load the round, ball like shells into their tubes. "I mean, these shells and mortars don't look any more impressive than the smaller ones do."

"Bad form, disparaging a man's equipment that way, Swan," Killian rebuked, giving her a feigned expression of outrage before smiling and offering an explanation to her inquiry. "It's because of the increased lift charge. In order to get the proper clearance from the ground before they go off, these shells have to travel hundreds of feet into the air. That takes quite a bit of force, so believe me, love," Killian leaned over, the breath of his words ghosting over the shell of her ear as he murmured, "when these shells leave their mortars, you'll feel it."

He rocked back on his heels, pressing his tongue to the back of his teeth as he fixed her with a heated look. Emma's breath hitched slightly under the intensity of his gaze, which flickered down to follow the path of her tongue as it swept over her lips.

"Hey boss!" one of the crew called out, snapping Killian's attention away from her and back to the undertaking at hand.

Right. They were supposed to be doing safety checks, not checking each other out. That reminder didn't stop her from checking out his ass as he led her to the next section of fireworks, though.

"So?" Killian questioned as they made their way to final area. "How are we looking as compared to last year, Swan?"

"So far, so good," Emma admitted casually. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how wowed she was by the whole set-up. "Let's hope your frontage is impressive, though. That's where Walsh was really lacking last year. It left us all pretty unsatisfied."

Emma groaned internally at the set-up she'd just offered him, and he certainly didn't disappoint.

With a sweeping gesture that started just over his crotch, Killian waved his hand towards the row of cakes that contained comets, wedges, mines, and other effects that made up the closest line to the crowd. "Oh, I assure you. My frontage is more than impressive." He caught her eye, a saucy brow lifted in tandem with his smirk as he added, "And with me, satisfaction is always guaranteed."

Emma couldn't help but laugh at the waggle of his brows, and he joined her with his own chuckle at his ridiculousness. The light began to fade around them as the sun started to set. Killian reached up and scratched behind his ear, suddenly looking not at all like his confident, cocky self. Was he… nervous?

"Do you, uh… where are you planning to watch the show from?"

"Oh! Uh..." Emma hadn't expected the question, and honestly hadn't given it much thought. She usually watched the show with her brother and his wife from wherever they set up their chairs within the park, but they'd opted not to come this year with the new baby and all. "I, uh. I'm not sure."

"Would you care to join me at the shooter's table? It's a hell of a view watching from behind the fire line."

"Is that safe?"

Killian stepped forward, once again pressing into her personal space. She wasn't going to admit how much she liked it when he did that.

"I assure you, no harm will come to you whilst you're in my charge." The heat was back in his gaze, and it had Emma feeling flushed despite the cooler temperatures the sunset had brought . "So long as you can follow my instructions without question."

Emma's brow shot up to her hairline. "Excuse me?"

"We've double and triple checked everything, all our safety precautions are in place, but that doesn't mean something still couldn't go wrong," Killian explained in all seriousness, not a hint of his earlier teasing detectable in his tone. "If it does, I need to know that you'll do exactly as I say without question. Can you do that for me, Emma?"

Emma swallowed heavily. His use of her name pierced right through her and settled somewhere comfortably in her chest. She nodded her understanding and compliance, earning her a soft smile before he reached out and took her hand in his. Her gaze flitted from their joined hands to his face, a hesitant, but hopeful expression beset his features. A smile twitched at her lips. His sudden shyness was adorable.

"Lead the way to the shooter's table, Jones," Emma said with a soft squeeze to his hand.

"Aye, love," Killian grinned. "Right this way."

The sun had fully set and darkness surrounded the shooter's table, which was located next to the only building, a utility shed, located in that part of the park. Five minutes more and the sky would be filled with bursts of color to enthrall the awaiting crowds. Emma admired the way Killian brought his crew together to give them final instructions, while praising them for all their efforts, and pumping them up for the fruits of their labors they too were about to enjoy.

After the crew members dispersed to their designated areas, she and Killian were left alone at the shooter's table. Killian booted up his laptop and turned on the firing panel, waiting for the signal from the sound booth that they had the music queued up and ready. Once the word came over the walkie talkie, he turned to Emma with a devious grin.

"Care to do the honors, love?"

Emma's eyes widened. "You want me to launch the show?"

Killian had informed her during the walk through at the warehouse, and again onsite, that everything was set up to fire remotely. All of the product was electronically matched and connected to a module that was control fired through Killian's computer. All he had to do was hit start, and the computer program did the rest.

"Absolutely," he grinned wider. "You can be the first of us to get something off tonight."

Emma rolled her eyes, but moved to stand in front of the laptop. No way was she gonna pass up the opportunity to start the show.

"Just click start when you're ready, Swan," Killian said in her ear from behind.

Emma's pulse rate spiked, both from the excitement of the impending display and the man standing so close she could feel the heat of his body radiating against her own. She guided the cursor to the green button on the screen, held her breath, and hit start. Immediately, she felt the concussive force of shells firing out of their mortars before filling the skies above her with their explosive kaleidoscope.

"Told you you'd feel it," Killian whispered against her hair, his arms snaking around her waist to pull her closer.

They watched in silence for the first song or two before Emma got curious about the different types of effects and shells she was seeing. Killian identified each burst for her; chrysanthemum, peony, cascading waterfalls, falling leaves, willows, and others.

"Lots of nature inspired descriptions, huh?"

"Nature can be very inspiring, love. Just like fireworks. Seems a good match."

"Fireworks inspire you?" Emma asked, settling against his chest and draping her arms over his. "You don't just see it as job?"

"How could I? Fireworks are our own brand of magic. I'm in awe as much as the crowd is everytime I shoot a show. I can't imagine ever losing the sense of wonder they give me."

Emma turned her gaze from the sky to look back at Killian over her shoulder. Boyish exuberance glowed from his face, illuminated by the burst of sparks one particularly large shell gave off. Transfixed by the way the colors of the fireworks danced over his skin and shimmered in his eyes, Emma found herself ignoring the stunning sight above for the no less glorious one behind her.

Until a concussive boom rocked her very core, causing her to gasp and jump in Killian's arms.

"It's only a salute, love," Killian chuckled. "They simulate canon fire. You really should pay attention, we're getting to some of the best bits."

Emma trained her eyes back to the dark expanse above, a blush blooming across her face over the fact she'd been caught staring. The music changed to a happy, upbeat pop song that joined the more whimsical looking effects breaking in the air. Whimsical effects like...

"Was that a smiley face?" Emma laughed.

"Indeed. You've all manner of shapes in your show. Smiley faces, hearts, and…" He paused as a perfect five point star broke over head. Emma could practically hear the smug bastard's grin. "I promised you'd see stars."

"That was only one star," Emma corrected. "I believe the promise was for multiples."

"Oh, don't worry about that, Swan. I always make good on my promises."

"Always?" she challenged.

"Always," he purred.

Sparks of anticipation ignited across her skin, simulating the sounds surrounding them as a number of crackling mines went off at the frontage position. Those same crackles zipped down her spine and fluttered in her belly when Killian's arms tightened around her and she could make out his promise waiting at the ready inside his pants.

Just as Emma wished the show would end so she could give him a chance to make good on that promise, the final song began… with a huge surprise.

Even at this distance, some several hundred yards away, the forceful thwump as the shell left the mortar slammed right into her in a disturbingly satisfying way.

"Wait for it…" Killian instructed, and the pop of the t against his tongue sent another pleasant sensation coursing through her.

A brilliant explosion of purple shook and filled the sky. Emma had never witnessed a more magnificent or magical sight. The burst hung in the air for what seemed like minutes, acting as a dazzling backdrop to the smaller shells taking stage before it began to dissipate, further filling her with wonder as a shower of embers rained down along the perimeter surrounding her and Killian. Emma knew there was no way that was a twelve, and she turned out of his embrace to question Killian with her suspicion.

"Was that?"

"A sixteen inch shell," Killian confirmed with a smile. His own awe and wonder warmly blanketing his words as he watched the final remnants of the spectacular shell die out before looking down at her.

"It wasn't in the budget, though. How did you?" Killian's sheepish look as he scratched behind his ear was all the answer she needed. "You paid for it didn't you? That was the last minute mortar you had buried, wasn't it?"

"I didn't want to deprive you of the experience, Swan."

"Well, you may have just shot yourself in the foot with that stunt," Emma chided causing Killian's brows to scrunch together. "I mean, you were right, Jones. I think you just ruined me for anything less impressive than that."

A devilish look passed over his features as he gathered her back into his arms. "That's alright. I'll endeavor to rise to the occasion with the next round of fireworks."

"The next round?" Emma slid her hands up his chest and linked them behind his neck. "Are there more fireworks to come?"

"I bloody well hope so."

His lips crashed into hers as the finale chains erupted across the site, filling the sky with a cacophony of salutes, crackles, and blasts as night was momentarily turned to day by the blinding flashes of color spectrumming up to the heavens. None of which could pull Emma from the equally thrilling sensation of Killian's kiss; a demanding press of lips and surge of his tongue that explored and took command over hers while his hands clutched desperately to the fabric at the back of her dress. Sultry moans somehow managed to combat the noise around them, causing a swoop to start deep in her belly and morph into an aching need between her thighs.

Cheers and whistles from the crowd in response to the end of the display rang out as they broke apart. Both of them in need of air, but unwilling to move away from each other, they rested their foreheads together drawing shaky breaths in tandem. Killian's walkie talkie beeped, and staticky elations of celebratory comments were shared among his crew.

"You, uh… you should probably answer that," Emma suggested, still panting and light headed.

"Aye. Excuse me, love."

Killian took a deep breath before radioing his crew. He commended them on their efforts and job well done, then gave final instructions before signing off. "Don't forget, we have a mandatory twenty minute cool down period before anyone can approach the racks. Go grab yourself a treat from the snow cone truck while we wait. I've already worked it out with owner, just charge it all back to me. Well done, lads!"

"Twenty minutes, huh?"

"A safety precaution in case we had anything that misfired, or didn't go off during the show that could ignite from fallen embers that might have made their way into the tubes."

"So, you can't do anything for the next twenty minutes?" Emma clarified, a tempting thought taking root in her mind as she surveyed the darkness surrounding them.

"Nope. Which is why I arranged for the snow co-" Killian's breath rushed from his lungs with a soft oof as Emma shoved him against the wall of the utility shed. Her hands reached for his belt, cupping him through his trousers as she began working it loose. "Swan?" he gasped in a half moan. "What are you doing?"

"You put on one hell of a show Jones, but now I want you to give me those other fireworks you've promised."

"What, here?" His voice rose a good octave, whether it was from his stunned reaction to her brazenness, or the fact she'd gotten his pants undone enough to stick her hand down them was anyone's guess.

"Yes. Here," she murmured against his neck, appreciating the salty taste of skin that was infused with the sweet sulphur of black powder. Who knew the smell of fireworks could be such a turn on? "Security will keep the crowds behind the fire line, and your crew has snow cones to occupy them for the next twenty minutes."

"Aye, but..." His head fell back against the smooth brick, a stuttered breath entering and exiting his lungs as she coaxed his velvety length to attention. "I had a plan," he panted. "Dinner and courting you properly."

"You still can," she breathed against his lips. "After the real fireworks."

Killian's hand clamped around her wrist, stilling the strokes of her movements. "Well, then." He spun them around so that it was now her back against the wall with him pressed flush against her. "If the lady insists."

He took her mouth again and reached back to unclasp the closures on the halter top of her dress as he hungrily nipped and sucked at her lips and tongue. Her skin rippled under the feather light touch of his hands trailing down her chest until they firmly palmed her breasts. A series of scorching kisses followed the path his hands had taken, and Emma arched into him as he took each nipple into his mouth, laving them into hardened peaks with the swirl of his tongue before traversing his way back up her neck.

While his mouth headed north to torment her ear and the sensitive area behind it, his hands moved south, slipping under her skirt and squeezing the tender flesh at the backs of her upper thigh. Emma groaned when he rolled his hips against hers, earning her a quiet shh in her ear; a reminder that even though they were well out of sight from the milling crowd, sounds echoed freely across the empty expanse of their deserted area of the park. A reminder Emma had to cling to every bit as much as Killian's shoulders when she felt his fingers push her underwear aside and graze the slick heat of her folds.

"Gods, Emma. So wet," he purred against her neck. "Is this what I do to you, love?"

"Yes," she whispered, as both an answer and an encouragement to the work his fingers were doing.

He inserted one finger, then a second, then a third, pumping and curling them inside her with expert precision that had her grinding down on his hand in equal rhythm. His thumb flicked against her clit and she cried out in response. Killian brought up his other hand to cover her mouth.

"Easy, love. We wouldn't want the entire park to know what we're up to back here, now would we?"

He flicked her clit again and increased the pace of his ministrations, all the while muffling the noises she now felt free to express as the building tension drew taut over her entire body before finally snapping. She bit down on the hand covering her mouth until the last wave of ecstasy rolled through her, leaving her more blissed out than she could ever remember.

Killian removed his hand from over her mouth and she opened her eyes just in time to see him sucking the fingers from his other hand clean. A fresh swell of arousal coursed through her at the sight.

"We better have enough time for you to fuck me against this wall with something other than your hand." She looked down at his half exposed erection then back up to give him a pointed stare.

"Oh, we've got time," he assured, freeing himself fully from his pants as he slipped them further down his hips. "Was my hand not satisfactory enough for you?"

"Oh, no. You got the job done," she said, flickering her gaze back down to the proud offering bobbing between them before popping an eyebrow at him. "I'm just not willing to settle for a twelve inch shell, when I could have a sixteen."

"You flatter me, Swan," Killian laughed. Emma briefly joined in his amusement until his expression sobered and he brought his hand up to cup her face. "You're sure about this, Emma?"

Emma nodded with an equal seriousness, slipping her panties down her legs and kicking them aside before she smirked and offered up an innuendo laden quip. "You better get to burying that impressive piece equipment there Jones. I have a feeling it's gonna need to be tightly secured when it goes off."

Something like a half chortle and growl rolled through Killian's chest and he closed what little gap there was between them. Grasping her backside firmly in his hands, he lifted her off her feet to wrap her legs around him. She leaned back to brace herself against the wall behind her and dug her fingers into his shoulders at the feel of him stretching her entrance with his girth.

"Fuck me," Killian cursed once he was fully sheathed within her. "If I thought you felt incredible around my fingers, it was nothing compared to this."

"Less talking, more doing," Emma demanded impatiently.

Killian was quick to comply with a rough snap of his hips, hitting her in just the right spot to make her see - yep… there they were - fireworks. With each dirty thrust of his hips, each slap of his skin against hers, a new color burst behind Emma's eyes. The perspiration from their exertions began to seep through the thin material of his shirt and Emma arched more firmly against the wall so she could release her hold on Killian's shoulder in favor of releasing him from his shirt. Her action gave him greater leverage against the pleasure point within her while his chest hair conspired to add a new level of luxuriant sensation to her already overstimulated body as it brushed past her still exposed nipples.

With both hands occupied keeping her aloft, his mouth sought hers when her moans and gasps began verbalizing themselves as yeses and oh, gods. Killian's hips picked up speed and she could tell his legs were beginning to shake. Each of them raced towards release, and though his came first, it set off a chain reaction that had them both experiencing a finale far grander and more explosive than any firework display could ever produce.

After some post coital lazy kisses, a quick clean-up, and pit stop by Killian's truck to grab a new shirt (the other one was sacrificed in the clean-up), they made their way back towards the main venue area so Emma could check-in with Regina and Killian could get back to work.

"I've got another couple of hours here tonight, then a few more tomorrow morning, I'm afraid." Killian took both her hands in his and brought them up to rest against his chest. "I'd like to make good on that offer of dinner, though. Are you free tomorrow night?" He lifted one of her hands towards his mouth a pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist.

"Why wait for dinner? I could come by the warehouse tomorrow. Maybe bring you lunch?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea, love." Killian's face became pinched and pensive, his eyes brimming with reservations and concern.

Emma's insecurities spiked at this unexpected reaction. She pulled her hands from his, took a step back, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why not?"

His expression immediately softened, an apologetic smile set on his lips as he pulled her back into his arms. "Because," he whispered softly, "the kind of sparks you and I generate when we're together are far too dangerous to have around a fireworks warehouse." He bent down and nuzzled her nose with his own before resting his forehead against hers. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Emma rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Shut up and kiss me, Jones."