Word Count: 9k (yeap, it's long)

Rating: M. And this is truly M, with a healthy dose of smut(ish). This is as daring as I'll ever write, ever. So please, proceed at your own risk

When Killian met Emma

The beginning

He hadn't expected much to come out of this ordeal. Killian was looking for a companion for the two-day trip that would take him from Boston to his new work in the advertising industry in Chicago. He didn't give it much thought when his former roommate David suggested his girlfriend's friend, Emma, who was also heading to Chicago. Killian had shrugged and agreed, walking out of the conversation knowing she was twenty-two - same as he - and was taking a job in social services. And that is how he met the force to be reckoned with that was Emma Swan. Blonde, green eyes, breathtakingly beautiful, red leather jacket and the most guarded attitude he'd seen in a long time. This only made Killian want to tear down those walls, one innuendo and smug smirk at a time.

He had her rolling her eyes in the first hour, retorting back at him in the second, smirking in the third and by the time they pulled up for dinner, they were bantering back and forth. He hadn't recalled when he last had such a good time in female company and he wasn't surprised when their bodies ended up tangled in each other in her hotel room (he regretted paying for his own room, which he never got to use). Emma Swan was clearly every bit of the wonderful lass she seemed to be and he enjoyed every minute of that night. He made sure she enjoyed it as well.

What was even better about Emma Swan was that she didn't linger on it, she didn't act awkward or even clingy the next day. She behaved as if nothing happened; and while it stung a little, he was also relieved to find he hadn't messed up the only possible friendship he'd have in Chicago.

When they arrived in the city and he left her at the door of her new apartment building, he fidgeted with his hands.

"Swan, about last night…" he started, but she cut him off.

"Listen, it was great. It really was," she said, biting her lower lip, "but I am not interested in starting a relationship at this point in my life, after just moving to the city."

He smiled at her. "Neither am I … but I do like you, lass. And you are the only person I know in this city… so, friends?" he asked, his hand reaching towards her.

She shook his hand. "Friends."

And that was what they became.

She was the first person he called when he got a big promotion and the person he ran his ideas by when he felt he may be coming off as a misogynist prick. She was the first person he called when he missed his brother terribly, or his country. Emma would show up at his place, carrying groceries and announcing they were making Irish stew or roasted lamb. They would spend the entire afternoon in his kitchen and he'd show her all his late mother's secret cooking tips. After dinner, they would sit down on the couch with the Guinness that she'd brought and he would tell her about his childhood.

He was the first person she called when the noncustodial parent in one of her assigned cases almost hit her and she didn't want to spend the night alone. Killian showed up at her house with an overnight bag and he held her in his arms until her body stopped shaking. He was the one she called when the cases got a little too personal, triggering her bad memories. And he would show up at her door, a box of pizza and a case of beer in his hands. He would later make hot chocolate for her, and he'd hold her in his arms while she cried away her memories, sharing bits of her painful past with him. When she would finally fall asleep in his arms, he would carry her to her bed, carefully tucking her in before pressing a soft kiss on her hair and heading back to the couch to spend the night.

Milah

Milah was a topic they hardly spoke about. She knew he was seeing her, and he knew she didn't like it; so they never talked about it.

But each time they met he seemed somber, he drank a little more, his eyes were darker with regret. She could see how it was eating him alive. And she wished there was something she could do to help him pull out of the darkness he was slowly sinking in.

So when he called her drunk out of his mind from the bar, mumbling about the final break up; she went to find him. She didn't know if it was the sight of him in such a state, or the memories of the carefree man she knew before Milah had played a number on him; but when he dragged her to the back room and leaned in to kiss her senseless, she kissed him back fiercely, pouring into that kiss all the comforting words she wanted to tell him. She understood that alcohol was no longer enough and she used her kisses to drown his sorrows. He ran his hands through her hair, and she pulled him flush against her body. She moaned when he pinned her against the wall, his knee between her legs as he kissed her over and over.

And when she drove him home and he leaned in to kiss her again, she deepened the kiss immediately, her hands grabbing the lapels of his jacket. She used her body to pull him out of the darkness over and over that night, her movements eagerly meeting his as he poured out his unspoken regrets, pain and sense of rejection and drove them into a mind-blowing release. Because that was what they did for each other.

She let him in when he showed up at her apartment a few days later, holding half a bottle of rum in his hand. She drank with him and then slept with him again. She showed him he was wanted, in the only way it would matter to him after what he'd gone through.

The next morning, she met his conflicted eyes and sheepish smile over the cup of coffee she handed him.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered.

She shrugged, "Hey, it's ok, you're just fucking your way out of the pain of the breakup. It's not that different than shoving ice cream in your mouth constantly like some other people do. It's not unlike all the times we've been there for each other in different ways throughout the years, Killian. That's what friends are for… right? It's not a big deal and I appreciate the workout." She smirked at him.

That was the beauty of Emma Swan - she didn't linger, she didn't cling, and she was brutally honest.

"Being with you is much more satisfying than eating ice cream, Swan…" he leaned in to kiss her, sober this time, and when he took her to the bedroom to eagerly claim her body again, it wasn't a mindless release, it wasn't a desperate need to feel wanted. It was just him relishing in the way she felt around him, without the alcohol clouding his senses, moving deep and slow until they both collapsed into each other. It was him feeling like himself again.

Two days later, he showed up at her apartment sober, his old smirk in place and two pints of ice cream in a bag.

And she knew that he was over Milah and things were back to normal.

Walsh

Walsh was a bloody wanker. He'd suspected it all along, based on his snobby comments and the contempt with which he looked at anything that wasn't trendy or hipster enough. He was the type of guy that measured everything and everyone by the surface, and never looked into what was lying underneath. Walsh never deserved her, that much Killian always knew. But he'd always thought he was harmless. Until Emma called him one night.

"Killian…" he only needed to hear the way she said his name and he was searching for his keys.

"I'll be right there," he said hastily.

She opened the door, and the tears running freely down her face made something inside of him snap. Never in his life had he wanted to inflict as much physical pain as he now wanted to inflict on that bloody wanker. But now was not the time. Now all his attention needed to be focused on the blonde standing in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to his body, trying to convey with his warmth everything he knew he couldn't with words. There would be time to seek revenge on Walsh later. Right now, Emma was all that mattered.

He slowly led them to the couch and he sat there, bringing her to his lap and closing his arms around her. He held her tightly as she sobbed into his shirt and told him of all the despicable things Walsh had said to her over the break up. He was going to kill the bastard: slow, painfully slow, he was going to kill that bloody monkey face for doing this to her. Part of his brain entertained himself with all the possible tortures he could inflict on Walsh while the other listened to Emma's tale, his hand softly rubbing her back.

"He's an idiot, Emma," he offered softly. "You were the best thing to ever grace that bloody idiot's existence and if he could not see it, then he truly didn't deserve you, love."

"I know…" Emma said, "It's just that everything he said, it made me remember all those times when I was never enough. It's like no matter what I try or do, I am never enough."

"Emma…" he whispered, his heart breaking a little at the insecurity in her voice. "Love, you are more than enough, you were too much for him anyway."

He kept holding her close, whispering comforting words closely to her ear and they eventually ended up lying on her couch, her back resting against his chest as he kept his arms tightly wrapped around her waist.

"He told me I was boring in bed…" she whispered, an obviously discouraged tone in her voice that broke his heart and made him stiffen behind her.

He quickly shifted them until she was facing him, their noses almost touching, their lips a breath away from each other's as his blue eyes bored into hers.

"Trust me, Swan, you are anything but boring in bed," he whispered, his lips almost brushing hers.

She leaned in, her lips softly connecting with his in a hesitant kiss that he reciprocated. Her tongue darted out of her mouth shyly but he opened his to welcome hers and she deepened the kiss eagerly. His hand moved from her waist to tangle in her hair as he pulled her even closer, tilting his head to prolong the kiss. He swiftly shifted them again until he was on top of her, their bodies connected from head to toe, their clothes soon becoming a cursed constraint.

"Emma…" he practically growled as his lips explore the skin on her neck. "Nothing about you is boring, love. Certainly not any of this." His hand had found the button of her jeans and he was carefully caressing the strip of skin that lay above it. "Do you – do you want me to show you?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Yes." she gasped and he leaned in to kiss her softly, but it escalated quickly until it was just him and her on that couch, skin against skin, as he groaned and moaned and let her know exactly how great she felt, how wonderful she was. He described against her skin what her touch was making him feel, how her body moving against his was igniting his desire, how her moans and gasps were making him combust with pleasure. How her orgasm was driving him insane.

"You have no idea, Swan." He grunted as he looked at her coming back from her high, his thrusts erratic as he chased his own release, his voice deep and husky, "How much all of this is the exact opposite of boring…" he finished before collapsing breathless against her, reaching frantically to give her a desperate kiss.

She woke up the next morning on her bed to the sound of Killian humming in the kitchen. She met him there a few minutes later, and he gave her a bright smile as he handed her a cup of hot chocolate with a shot of coffee and a plate of eggs and bacon.

"Feeling better?" he asked gently, a soft and genuine concern in his eyes. Emma nodded and Killian took a sip of his mug, savoring the coffee before he spoke again. "I called a friend from the pub that works in the city government. He agreed several inspections were needed on Walsh's shop."

"Killian…" she started but he rose his eyebrows at her.

"I also called a few hipster bloggers I know from work. Let's just say, his online reputation will take a nice hit." There was an evil streak in his smirk that she'd never seen before.

"Killian, it's really not necessary. You said so yourself, he's not worth it."

He closed the distance between them, his blue eyes boring into hers with determination. "He doesn't get to belittle you and walk out unscathed from it, Swan. You're not alone in this, love. You've got me to protect you." His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her chin, "And you are not boring in bed. I'll prove that to you again anytime you want, darling." he whispered before leaning in to press a soft kiss on her forehead. "I have to get to work… will you be ok?" he asked sincerely and she nodded, smiling softly.

He was sitting in his office the following afternoon, going over some campaign ideas for a client, when he heard the soft knock on his door. He lifted his head and saw Emma coming in, dressed in a short black skirt that buttoned at the front waist and a tight green shirt. She looked breathtaking. He tilted his head in confusion as she closed the door and locked it, before closing the blinds shut and leaving her bag on the couch nearby.

"Swan!?" he asked hesitantly, but she had quickly walked the distance between the door and his desk, and she was crashing her lips against his fiercely. He froze for one second before kissing her back and she moved to straddle him, her skirt lifting a little as she deepened the kiss and ran her hands through his hair desperately.

"Emma…" he was able to mumble between kisses, "Are you ok?"

She ground her hips against his, and they both gasped at the feeling, her green eyes looking at him with determination, "He really thinks I was boring in bed," she said. "This isn't boring, is it?" she asked, as she ground her hips again. He growled, his own hips arching to meet hers.

"Not at all," he panted before pulling her into another kiss, his tongue plundering her mouth as his hands tightened on her hips. She moved her hips against his, both grinding and panting as they kissed frantically. She broke the kiss to hastily unbutton his shirt, caressing his chest as she bit his earlobe. His hand reached underneath her skirt, eager to bring even more pleasure to her. He groaned when his fingers made contact with her damp skin and he realized she wasn't wearing any underwear. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against her chest for a brief second.

"Swan. Fuck," he said breathlessly.

"Yes, exactly…" she said, her hips still moving, rocking against him. "Killian… I have a spare change of clothes in my bag..." she breathed.

"What do you want me to do, Emma?" he asked in a broken whisper.

"I want…" she started, her hips moving again. "No, I need you to rip my clothes off and fuck me on your desk."

He groaned and in the next second he had ripped her shirt, tearing it away from her body. She wasn't wearing a bra either, and his hand fondled one of her breasts, as he licked and bit the other one. She bit her lip to stifle her moans and that sound made him lose his mind.

He moved quickly, swiftly lifting her from him and sitting her on the edge of the desk. He ripped her skirt apart and she lay naked in front of him. He kissed her lips, her neck, her chest, his fingers stroking her gently at first but increasing the pace until she was moaning and gasping.

"Killian…" she breathed.

"Don't worry, Swan, there will be fucking of the more traditional sort later. I just need to see you fall apart like this," he said huskily. "Come for me, love," he urged.

Her body started shaking and he crashed his lips to hers to drown out her moans as he drew out her orgasm until she lay almost boneless in his arms. Only a few moments later, her eyes met his and she slowly kissed him, her hands reaching to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. He reached for his wallet in the back pocket, quickly grabbing a condom. He tore the package as her hand reached underneath his black boxer briefs to grab his cock and stroke him. He growled at the feel of her hand stroking him, before she took the condom from his hands and quickly rolled it down his length.

He pulled away a little and she laid back over his desk as he aligned himself. His blue eyes, darkened with lust, met hers and she nodded, biting her lower lip. He entered her slowly, his eyes shutting down as pleasure etched his face. He started thrusting, a slow rhythm that drew out their pleasure as much as possible, but soon he was panting, breathing heavily as he reached to kiss her.

"Tell me what you want, Emma. This is your fantasy, love," he said.

Her green eyes locked onto his before she gave him a mischievous smile.

"Sit back on the chair, Killian," she said, and he quickly complied, separating himself from her and sitting back on his chair. She straddled him, her hand reaching to guide his cock as she slowly sank onto him. Once she had him fully sheathed, she started to roll her hips, moving up and down, quickly speeding up. She could hear his grunts and moans, she could see how wrecked he was. And it made her feel fucking fantastic.

"Swan…I – I can't, love, I'm close…" he warned her, his voice a strained whisper.

"I want you to lose to control, Killian," she said, her hips moving back and forth, "Am I driving you insane?"

"Yes," he grunted.

"Am I riding you hard enough?" she whispered in his ear, and he almost collapsed right there.

"Gods, Swan."

"Do you want me to go faster, Killian?" she asked, her tongue licking his earlobe, feeling powerful and beautiful, pleasure oozing from her every pore.

"Fuck, Emma," Killian replied as he grabbed her hips and held her tight against him as he thrust into her, coming forcefully with a strained groan, his eyes closing for a brief second before they opened and met hers.

It took him a few seconds to find his voice, but when he did, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and rested his forehead against hers. "Walsh was a bloody wanker, Swan."

"I know," Emma said, and she shifted a second, her hand reaching for his phone. "Do you mind?" she asked almost shyly. He cocked an eyebrow at her before smirking devilishly and shaking his head. She snapped a picture of them, not very detailed but enough to give the idea of what had just transpired, quickly typed a message and entered a number before hitting send. "And now he'll know too," she said.

Killian chuckled, "What did you write?"

"Perhaps it wasn't me. Perhaps you didn't motivate me enough," she said, as she carefully disentangled from him, getting up and reaching to grab her torn clothes from the floor. She reached for her bag and pulled out a floral skirt and a black bra and shirt. He quickly cleaned himself and rearranged his clothes as she got dressed. He walked towards the closed door and leaned into it, waiting for her to meet him.

"Emma, are you ok?" he asked earnestly, his hands cupping her face as he searched her eyes and she could see the tender affection in them.

"I am now," she smiled at him, leaning in to brush his lips softly. He pulled her into a tight hug before bending down to kiss her softly, tenderly.

"Thank you, Killian," she whispered against his lips.

"Anytime, Swan."

She showed up a day later at his door with two pints of ice cream and he knew that whatever insecurities she had battled against, it was over. They were back to Killian and Emma, friends lying on his couch, watching movies and eating ice cream like any other evening.

Tink

Tink was fun - easy to get along with, carefree, lighthearted. She made an effort to get to know everyone: their names, their jobs, their quirks. She showed honest excitement for people's news. More than anything, Tink liked Killian. It was clear for everyone to see that she genuinely felt attracted to him and had no problem in showing it. She didn't hide him, she didn't deny him. She was pure light around him, her petite frame almost bouncing magically besides him. Killian smiled more since he started dating Tink. He laughed more. His eyes shone a little brighter than usual and a lot brighter than when he'd been with Milah. It was clear they had fun together and it was very clear from the times they'd arrived later and disheveled, that they were fucking non-stop. Killian looked happy. Tink was a nice person, and that made it a lot more difficult for Emma to explain the weight in the pit of her stomach whenever she saw them together.

But then one day, out of the blue, without any hint that things were not going right, Killian called her and said that it was over, and Emma headed to his place; a case of beer under her arm.

They sat on his couch and he fidgeted with his beer bottle before he finally confessed that the true reason for the break up was that he was tired of Tink's constant need to experiment with sex. She was a wonderful lass, he explained, but she liked to do it everywhere, anywhere, on all types of surfaces and situations. And it had been fun for a while, feeling that rush, that anticipation, the adrenaline of trying new things and what not; but he eventually grew tired of it.

"What happened to good old regular sex in a bed, Swan?" he asked, and she laughed at him.

"I don't know, Killian."

"I mean, is that too much to ask? Just feeling each other slowly, easily, quietly…does it always have to be in a new way, a new position, or a new adventure?" Killian sighed, running his hand through his hair. "It's not just that it wasn't fun anymore, it was almost as if there wasn't anything else there..." He averted his eyes, an embarrassed smile on his face, "She wanted me to ask you if you were interesting in joining us sometime."

Emma's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she took a long sip from her beer before she replied, "I'm up for it," half-jokingly.

"I'm not."

"Really? Because doing two girls, I thought that was every guy's fantasy," Emma replied. "What would the logistics be?" She asked curiously. "Me and her and you watch? Then which one would you do? Or would you plan to do both?"

"I'm not planning to do anything, Swan," he replied shortly, before taking another drink. "But… I would say both."

"Which one first? Which one last?" Emma continued. "All these questions to figure out. Is first or last better? With the first you have more stamina…" she tilted her head and he couldn't help his chuckle.

"But last…" he pointed his finger at her, "that is the person you really want to end up snuggling with at the end of the night, don't you think?"

She pondered his words for a second before she diverted the subject again, "So you said no and she broke up with you?"

"Nah," he said, before tilting his head pensively. "But it wasn't the only thing I didn't want to do and I think at some point, she had had enough of my rejections. And you know, it just didn't feel right with her anymore," he finished quickly. She could sense there was more to the story than what he was letting on.

"Killian…" she pressed pointedly, "what happened?"

He averted his gaze, his hand fidgeting with the label on the bottle, mulling over his answer. She sensed his distress and rested her hand on his arm, "Killian, you can tell me…" she said calmly. Killian sighed before he turned to face her.

"I - I wouldn't have sex with her in my office," he admitted, and his eyes met her surprised gaze. "It just didn't feel right," he whispered.

Emma moved to take the bottle from his hands and placed it on the coffee table, next to hers.

"So..." she asked, as she moved easily towards him, her hand moving softly up his arm, her eyes meeting his almost shyly. "Are you tired of sex?"

"Not sex…" he whispered, biting his lower lip and swallowing hard, his eyes boring into hers. "Just experimental sex…"

"But good old regular sex…" she said as she leaned closer to him.

"…sounds pretty good right now," he finished, as his lips connected with hers softly, his hand

tangling in her hair and his arm snaking around her waist to pull her closer to him. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss and the feeling was intoxicating, her tongue matching his, stroke for stroke, slowly, very slowly. Her hands caressed him languidly, but still managed to send shivers down his spine. He finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers before he spoke in a hoarse voice, "Bedroom." He lifted her, scooping her in his arms and he walked towards his bedroom, while her lips softly caressed his neck.

Leisurely, they took off each other's clothes, his hands relishing in the softness of her body, in the curves of her hips. He mapped her body with his lips unhurriedly, tenderly, her soft moans igniting a fire in him that burnt gradually this time. And when their bodies finally connected, it was quiet, it was an easy rhythm that filled them both, soft moans and tender caresses as he moved inside her. Her body arched into his as she moaned her release and he quickly followed her with a soft groan of his own.

Later that night, he looked at her sleeping form, his arms holding her tightly against him, her soft breathing luring him into a peaceful sleep, and he whispered against her skin, "You would have been my last…"

He showed up at her place the next day with two pints of ice cream and they spent the entire afternoon lazily stretched out on her couch, watching movies and eating ice cream.

Emma was placing the used bowls in the kitchen sink when she felt Killian standing behind her. One of his hands reached to caress her waist as the other pushed her hair to the side, and he placed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. She sighed softly, her body moving to press against his. She heard his sharp breath intake, before he pressed himself closer to her, his hand travelling from her shoulder to the mount of her breast. His lips traced a path from the nape of her neck to the hollow where it met her shoulder and she gasped at the contact of his stubble against her sensitive skin. He continued to kiss her softly, his lips barely touching her skin as he slowly turned her around to face him. His lips travelled up her neck and into her jaw as his hands pulled her hips towards his, pressing her center against the front of his pants.

"Killian, you brought ice cream..." she said hesitantly.

"Aye, I know." he whispered, the whiskers of his beard tickling the skin of her face.

"I thought…" she trailed off as her arms reached to caress his, travelling the distance to press against his shoulder blades and bring him closer to her.

"Me too…" he groaned softly, his eyes opening to bore into hers, his lips a breath away from hers, his desire palpable against her skin. But he stood there, waiting for her to make the final decision.

She leaned in, closing the small distance between them as her lips touched his, her hands tangling his hair. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, his arms snaking at her waist to lift her shirt a little, finally caressing her soft skin. His fingers traced patterns as they moved from her back towards her stomach, slowly dancing against her skin. She moaned silently, a breathy exhale filling the room when his hands tugged at the elastic band of her sweatpants and he pulled them down calmly. He got on his knees and she kicked the pants aside and he kissed her navel while his hand stroke her lightly over her already damp underwear. The slow motion was driving her wild with need, her hips bucking against his fingers. She could feel the smile on his face against her skin as he removed her underwear, his lips closing in on her center in one swift motion that elicited a loud moan from her. He smiled again, his tongue darting out to taste her as he grabbed her leg and anchored her knee on his shoulder.

"I - I thought…" she gasped, almost lost for words, "What happened with good old regular sex on a bed?" she panted at the rhythm his tongue and fingers were making on her.

"I don't know, Swan… it doesn't seem to bother me so much when it's you…" he said calmly, lifting his head and looking at her earnestly, "do you – do you want me to stop?"

"God, no," she said firmly and he smirked mischievously before he bent his head again and licked her. His tongue and fingers found the perfect rhythm easily and soon she was panting and moaning as her body trembled and shuddered under the work of his mouth. He stopped his licks as she came down from her high and his arms caught her as she almost collapsed into him. He maneuvered them so he was sitting on the kitchen floor, his back against the counter and she laid on top of him, boneless and sated and beautiful. He reached to caress her face, his hand tangling in her hair and he pulled her to a kiss. "You're beautiful…" He whispered almost to himself, before diving in to kiss her again. "You're so beautiful," he professed again, kissing her frantically, desperately, his heart beating forcefully against his chest at the need to have her in his arms, to never let her go.

The loud and persistent ringing of her phone interrupted them and she quickly disentangled herself from his arms and got up to answer the call. "I'm on call," she explained briefly.

"Emma Swan," she said to the phone and Killian took a moment to gather his thoughts together but he found it impossible to concentrate or make any sense of what had just transpired between them.

"Alright, I can be there in 20 minutes," Emma said. "Who should I ask for? Detective Graham Humbert… is that you? Alright, detective, I'll see you in 20." She disconnected the call and she headed towards her bedroom, hastily speaking in the process. "I'm sorry, there's a case. It's bad. Domestic violence, there are minors involved. Twins."

When she came back from her room, she had on a pair of jeans, a black shirt and boots. She looked at him concerned, "Killian, what is it?"

He met her eyes, a vacant smile on his face, "Nothing, love. I'm fine."

"I - I'm sorry that…" she started but he cut her off.

"No apologies needed, Swan. I had brought ice cream. Everything is fine."

She smiled at him, "I'm not sure how long this will take… just lock up when you leave, ok? I'll call you later. Tomorrow or something…" She was at the door when the turned around again. "Talk to you soon?"

He nodded and watched her leave, trying to make sense of the thoughts and feelings that were invading his body.

Graham

Detective Graham Humbert had taken one look at Emma Swan and had known she was perfect. Graham had dropped by Emma's office that week to inquire about the state of the twins. When he'd found out they were in a group home, he had asked permission to take them out on Saturday afternoon and asked Emma to come along. Graham and Emma had spent a lovely afternoon playing with the kids and his dog at a park nearby his house, before he treated them to pancakes and homemade milkshakes. At the end of that day, Graham had asked Emma out on a date and she'd said yes. He didn't waste any time sweeping her off her feet because he knew Emma was a keeper.

Graham was perfect: he worked to serve and protect the community, he volunteered his free time at an animal shelter and he'd kept taking the twins out on the weekends until they were adopted by a nice family.

And Killian hated him. Graham was the living proof of all his shortcomings. Next to Graham, he felt he'd been weighed, he'd been measured, and he'd been found wanting. And he hated it.

But most of all, he hated the way Emma looked at him. The way her smiles brightened when Graham was near her. He hated the fact that Graham spent the night at her place and he knew he was fucking her. And after a few months, it became only worse, because he knew he was making love to her. It was driving him insane.

They'd been together for three months and he hated it more and more each day, which is why he was at Granny's nursing a beer and a grilled cheese sandwich instead of at the barbeque he had been invited to at Graham's place.

"Where's that pretty lady of yours?" Granny asked as she cleaned up the counter.

"She's at a barbeque at her boyfriend's house," Killian said in despair, reaching for his beer and taking a big gulp.

Granny tilted her head, "You've finally figured it out, haven't you?"

"Figured what out?" he asked, confused.

"That you are in love with her…"

His mouth opened in astonishment. "I'm not in love with Emma. We're friends. Good friends," he said quickly.

"Rii-iight," Granny countered. "That's the lie you've been telling each other for years while you parade around with boyfriends and girlfriends that never quite last. Then it's back to you and her alone in here, looking at each other adoringly. How can you not see it?"

"We're just friends, you've got it all wrong," Killian said feebly, his stomach wrenching.

"Then why aren't you at the barbeque? Is it because you can't stomach seeing her with him?" Granny said before she reached to put her hand on his arm and spoke softly to him. "It's eating you alive, Killian. I can tell. Why do you keep lying to yourself?" she sighed, before leaving him to his thoughts.

Killian sat there, his fingers touching the rim of his beer glass, contemplating Granny's words. He wasn't in love with Emma. He wasn't. They were friends. They'd decided years ago that they'd be friends and they have stood together through thick and thin. Through everything. His mind drifted to everything they'd lived through, the good times and the moments where they had comforted one another. All the times they were there for each other in every sense.

And then his mind flew to that wretched afternoon at her house, and what he'd felt before that bloody phone call that pried her away from his arms: that need of never letting her go.

His hand froze on the glass.

Bloody Hell.

The fallout

He was in love with Emma. After the realization hit him like a bag of bricks, he couldn't deny it anymore. He couldn't stop the memories from flooding his mind, each of them now seen through a different lens. The lazy afternoons on the couch, the evenings comforting each other, all the times his body had joined hers chasing away whatever demons they had been battling.

He was fucking in love with Emma Swan.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

She was happy. Graham made her happy. He treated her with respect, he looked at her like the marvelous creature that she was and he had never done anything wrong by her.

It was eating him alive, but Killian put on his best mask and buried it all. He smiled at them, at her, trying to hide the longing in his eyes whenever he saw Emma reaching for Graham's hand, touching him softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Wishing it was him whom she'd reach out to. Knowing he had missed his chance.

That is why he was taken aback when she showed up to his apartment a few weeks later, eyes slightly puffy from crying and a couple beers in her hands.

"Emma, what is it, love?" He asked concerned, trying to ignore the flicker of hope that had ignited in him the second he saw her at the door. It couldn't be what he hoped for… could it? "What happened?"

She sighed as she entered his apartment and slumped on his couch. He quickly followed, gazing at her intently.

"Graham and I broke up." She said with a sad determination and Killian sank further into the couch, the weight of her words reaching him.

They'd broken up. Graham wanted to commit, he wanted to take the next step and have them move in together. And Emma was hesitant, she'd felt it was too soon, her fears and walls coming to haunt her and paralyze her. She sighed, her hand fidgeting with a strand of her hair as she told Killian how she'd tried to explain this to Graham, but Graham had only felt that she didn't love him.

"And do you?" Killian asked, trying to hide the strain in his voice, his heart beating frantically in his chest, waiting for her answer - the answer that could very well change his fate.

She leaned back on the couch, taking a long moment to ponder her answer. Killian felt each one of those seconds ticking inside of him.

"I don't know," she said earnestly. "I like him. But I feel that something is missing and I am not sure it will ever be there, you know?"

Killian nodded, and he dared to ask another question, this time masking the hope in his voice, "Is it over then? There's no way that you and Graham would patch things up?"

Emma shook her head sadly, "I don't think so." She took a deep breath, "It's over."

They stood silent for a while, each of them pondering their thoughts, before she put the beer on his coffee table and reach out to hug him. Killian sighed deeply at the feeling of having her in his arms again, burying his nose in her hair and breathing her in.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she whispered in his ear, before she pulled away and her lips were closing in on his. A soft, tender kiss that he couldn't help but reciprocate, his entire body vibrating at the feeling of having Emma kissing him. She moaned feebly and her mouth opened to deepen the kiss, pressing tighter into him and he could feel the mood switching, that underlying desire coursing through them. He was falling - falling into her, falling into the need of having her, tasting her, kissing her, loving her.

But then his mind took over and he realized he couldn't go through with it, he couldn't sleep with her this time. Not when he wanted it to mean so much more. Not when she didn't know how much more it meant for him.

He broke the kiss and gently pried her hands from his neck before he met her confused eyes. "I can't," he said in a broken voice.

He could see the pain of rejection in her eyes and his hand reached out to her. "Emma," he said, but she moved quickly away from him, standing from the couch.

"I'm sorry, I - I misread the situation," she said, running her hands nervously on her thighs and he could see the discomfort in her stance. "I didn't know you were dating someone," she whispered.

"I'm not," he said, and he saw the confusion and hurt in her eyes.

"Then why…." she trailed off, not able to finish the sentence and he could see her trying to think of a reason why he'd turn her down

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and preparing himself to face the moment of truth. He felt his stomach clench into a knot the moment his eyes laid on Emma standing in his living room, looking curiously at him.

"Because I'm in love with you," he said, his eyes boring into hers.

Shock and confusion invaded her features and she took a step away from him. It broke his heart to see her pulling away, but he forced himself to speak the truth.

"I love you, Emma. And I can't sit here and let you kiss me like that, knowing perfectly well where it will lead us." He stood, taking a step towards her, pouring his feelings into his words. "I don't want to fuck you, Swan. I want to make love to you, I want to whisper loving words in your ear, make you breakfast in the morning, hold your hand in the street and do all the things we never truly allow ourselves to do."

He took another step towards her, but she took one step back, her eyes looking at him in disbelief. "You don't love me…"

"I do," he professed fervently.

"We are friends, Killian," she spat at him. "We decided we were only going to be friends."

"Aye, years ago neither of us wanted a relationship and we decided we'd be better off as friends. And we are friends," he said, tilting his head to the side, his eyes flickering with devotion. "But somewhere down the line, in between being there for each other through everything, including sleeping with each other to get over broken hearts, I've fallen in love with you, lass. And it's terrible timing, I know, but I can't lie to you, Swan. I can't just have sex with you until you show up with two pints of ice cream when all I want to do is pull you into my arms and my bed and never let you go."

She looked at him, tears coming to her eyes, and he knew he had burst the little bubble they had built up for years. He'd gone and done the one thing she'd never wanted him to do. He'd fallen in love with her and made everything complicated. He'd put himself in the one spot where she could lose him. And she couldn't afford to lose him, which is probably why she never wanted to see if there was something between them to begin with.

"Emma…" He tried to reach out to her but she stopped him.

"Don't," she whispered. "I - I have to go."

"Swan…don't go. Stay," he pleaded. "Please. Let's - let's talk about this."

But she couldn't, she was inside the walls she'd built for herself. She turned around and left the apartment, not looking back at the heartbroken expression on Killian's face.

The ending
Killian collapsed on his couch when the door closed, running his hands through his hair and wondering if he'd made the right decision by confessing his feelings to Emma. But deep down, he knew he couldn't lie to her, not anymore. Now he could only hope that she'd come back when she was ready to face him.

The night poured into the next day, and the next. A hazy blur of hours as he went through the motions of getting to work and going back home, tossing in his bed at night, missing Emma in his life.

She hadn't reached out. She hadn't called him. Killian knew she needed time but he ached for her, her absence bringing nothing but endless torment.

Which is why when he opened his door on Saturday morning and found Emma standing nervously in the hallway, his eyes shined and he smiled fondly.

"Swan…" he whispered.

"Can I come in?" She asked hesitantly and he briefly nodded, his throat suddenly dry.

She walked in right into his living room and she slowly turned around to face him.

"You caught me off guard the other day," she said directly.

He smiled. That was one of the many reasons why he loved Emma Swan - she didn't linger, she didn't cling, and she was brutally honest.

"Aye, I suppose I did," he admitted, reaching to scratch behind his ear.

She sighed before meeting his gaze again. "I've been thinking a lot this week about many things: how we met, what we've been to each other through the years…"

He watched her fidget with her hands, averting her eyes for a brief second, before she almost forced herself to look at him, "I need you to understand that I have thought about this. A lot."

His heart sank as he tried to make sense of her words and all he could think was that he needed to prepare for the upcoming rejection she was trying to ease on him. He gave her a brief nod and an encouraging smile. "I understand, Emma. What - what do you have to say?"

"That the reason why I felt something was missing with Graham was because he wasn't you," she whispered softly, her eyes meeting his shyly.

He froze on his spot, his mind trying to make sense of the words, his heart racing in his chest and his lips softly parted in astonishment.

She took a deep breath before she spoke again. "It's always been you. That is why it never worked with anyone else and why I think it didn't work for you either."

He was closer to her, each one of her words making him take one step towards her, as his eyes bored into hers. He could see the tears forming in her eyes but he stood still, knowing she needed to continue, allowing her to face her fears and take the final step towards him. Towards them.

She smiled at him, her eyes bright despite her tears. "I'm in love with you, probably from the first time you showed up at my house to comfort me and maybe even before that…maybe even from the first time we met."

"Emma," he whispered, as his hands cradled her face and he leaned in to softly kiss her, capturing her lips lovingly, tenderly. He pulled away just for a brief second, his eyes fixed on hers, his grin plastered on his face. "I love you, too," he said, before closing the space between them and kissing her again. His arms enveloped her in his embrace, wrapping her in his warmth, and he relished in the fact that Emma was there with him.

He pulled her tighter into his arms when he broke the kiss, burying his nose in her hair and breathing her scent as he sighed in contentment.

"What now?" she asked softly, and he pulled away to look at her, his eyes drinking in her smile and her face. He reached to put a strand of hair behind her ear as he bit his lip.

"Now…we take it slow. I'll take you out to dinner tonight," he said as he brushed his lips softly to hers, his hand caressing her chin.

"Slow, uh?" She said as she swayed with him, her steps carefully taking them backwards into his living room. "A date…"

"Aye. A date." He smiled, his hands on her hips as he pulled her closely to him, his body almost dancing with hers. "And if that goes well, perhaps another," he suggested.

"And let's say that one goes well too," she whispered, her arms on his neck as she softly caressed the nape of his neck. "What happens then?"

He closed his eyes for a brief second, relishing in the feeling of her fingertips on his skin. He opened them again, his gaze boring into hers lovingly. "Then you move in with me next week."

To her credit, she didn't even flinch. She just cocked an eyebrow before giving him an incredulous look. "What happened with slow?"

Killian smirked at her. "Well, Swan, when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

"You stole that line from a movie," she said, feigning being unimpressed.

"I borrowed it, yes," he admitted as they kept swaying across his place, slowly moving towards the hallway leading to his room. "Doesn't make it any less true, love."

"You do realize I just broke up with someone because of fear of commitment, right?" she squinted her eyes at him playfully.

Killian chuckled and his lips captured hers in a soft kiss. "You said it yourself, Emma. The problem wasn't fear of commitment. The problem was that it wasn't me."

She rested her forehead against his, sighing deeply, feeling his warmth and confidence enveloping her. She swayed into him as she tiptoed to kiss him, her lips moving against his as she leaned into him. He groaned softly, his tongue caressing her bottom lip before he deepened the kiss and even though they'd done this before and it was familiar, it was also different.

She stumbled a little in his arms, until her back hit the wall softly and she pulled his body flush against hers, her body molding to his. He broke the kiss, panting a little, and she smiled mischievously at him. "Slow?" she asked in a tone laced with double meaning.

"Yes, Swan," he replied, his innuendo-laced tone matching hers. "Very slow," he said as his lips caressed her neck and she shivered, her hands moving back and forth on his back. "Calmly," he whispered as his hands undid the buttons of her shirt, one by one, each marked by a soft kiss across her collarbone.

She reached to pull out his shirt, her eyes roaming over his bare chest before she pulled him to her, whispering before capturing his lips, "No rushing into things."

"Mhmm- mhmm," he mumbled before he lifted her in his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist and carried them to his bedroom. He laid her carefully on his bed and hovered over her.

"Unhurriedly," he said as he positioned his knee between her thighs and parted her legs gently, his hands reaching to unbutton her jeans and remove them slowly, tracing kisses down her navel.

Emma gasped as her body arched into his kisses, biting her lip before looking at him with hooded eyes. "Quietly…"

"Maybe not that," He smirked at her, his fingers stroking her over her underwear and she moaned at the touch. "Definitely not quiet," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "You're beautiful, Emma."

She pulled him up, her lips searching for his before giving him a searing, slow burning kiss that conveyed exactly how they were feeling as they explored each other again, a familiar territory that felt new at the same time. When their bodies reconnected, he locked his gaze on hers, reaching for a soft kiss and whispering "I love you" against her lips. And as they moved together, her body arching into his, her lips murmuring soft loving words, he couldn't stop kissing her, his forehead resting against hers as he poured out his love for her, for everything that she was, into each movement. His kisses muffled her moans as she came around him and he quickly followed her, letting himself fall into the warmth of her body as he collapsed into her.

He smiled as he pulled her into his arms, her head resting on his chest, his hand caressing up and down her back.

"Moving in next week?" she asked and even without seeing her, he could feel her smirk.

"It can be next month," he answered. "I'm not picky. Just laying all my cards on the table, Swan." His hand brought her chin up so her eyes could meet his. "I love you, I'm in this for the long haul."

She tilted her head before giving him a soft smile. "Let's see how that first date goes tonight. If it's really good, I might even consider it."

He chuckled and his head bent down to give her a soft kiss, full of promises, "Well, lass, I'll have you know that I do know how to plan an evening out."

(She moved in at their first month anniversary.
He asked her to marry him the day before their fifth month anniversary by hiding the ring in a pint of ice cream.
They always have sex in his office.)