My contribution to the CS Storybook!
They hardly get a moment to themselves and Emma's sure her mother's designed it this way - some sort of penance for what she walked in on this morning, but really that was Snow's fault for not knocking when she knew exactly what sorts of things newly engaged couples like to, well, engage in. There's this iconic Storybrooke building and that memorable spot and so much walking, walking, walking and Emma's sort of not joking when she suggests they elope.
She wants this, a big wedding and her happy family, her happy beginning, but God if her parents start bickering one more time she's going to scream.
"You know I'd elope with you in a heartbeat," Killian says, gladly indulging in her need to tuck herself up against him in the big empty town hall while her parents excuse themselves to argue in private and Henry ducks into the hall to text Violet. Emma nods, shifting her head slightly so she can breath him in; he certainly doesn't smell like he took a quick and bracing shower, in fact he still smells vaguely like sweat and sex and damn him if that isn't doing things to her insides. "Just you and me, the lad as witness, the Jolly Roger…"
"A barrel of rum," she agrees. "Though we'd have to drop Henry off before we honeymoon."
"Aye. No use scarring the lad."
"Not more than we already have."
He chuckles and it vibrates up through his chest, rumbling in her ear and making her feel all gooey. What she wouldn't give to just drag him back to the house… "I daresay the boy will want to spend less time with us in the coming weeks. Or months."
Emma hums, amused, remembering the way Killian had woken her that morning with his head between her thighs and his tongue inside of her. She's only glad she thought to cast a soundproofing charm over their room weeks ago, otherwise their neighbors would probably complain.
God, this is such a difference from their 'first' engagement. Then, she'd chalked it up to too much rum; he'd needed to sleep his bender off that night, and then the next day had been… fine. It was good, they were always good, but it was just… fine. Regular, everyday sex. Perfunctory. Insert tab A into slot B, repeat.
She's glad she knows now that yes, engagement sex is supposed to be happy, it's supposed to be mind-blowing, it's supposed to be enthusiastic. And maybe they're not supposed to take turns waking the other every two hours for a repeat performance, and maybe she's not supposed to watch him stroll into the bathroom buck naked and wonder how quickly she can get him back to bed, but she doesn't care.
(She does kind of care that she didn't get to bend him over the kitchen table and have her way with him, but she's willing to wait.)
"What do you think it would be like?" she asks suddenly. Killian hums a question, not quite following. She smiles. "What my dad said, about taking everyone back to the Enchanted Forest and having the wedding there. Not that I want that, but. I guess I kind of wonder what that would have been like, a real royal wedding."
"Well, sweet, I daresay any wedding of yours is a royal wedding, but I catch your meaning." He pauses to ponder it, then continues, "I can't say that I've attended any royal weddings, but do you recall our adventure to the past?"
Emma's smile widens as his hand moves to her waist and his hook lifts her hand into the air. "I remember being escorted to a ball by a prince," she teases, following his lead into a familiar waltz.
"The fairest princess of them all on my arm, that would be the one," Killian says, turning her around the hall and grinning at her giggle. "Now, I know that wasn't a wedding ball, but I should think that an engagement ball is the closest it comes."
Emma doesn't squeak as he lifts her, but she does breathe easier when her feet are on the ground again. "There's drawings of my parents' wedding in Henry's book," she says. "Brides wear white there too."
He shrugs. "As far as I'm aware, brides wear whatever color they wish. Your mother just so happened to have worn white. Why, is it really the custom to wear white here?"
She wrinkles her nose. "Something about representing purity and virginity, I don't know. At this point it's more traditional than anything. I look good in white, that's all that really matters."
He leans in and she feels his breath against her ear. "Indeed you do; and it's a good thing it's merely customary, because I'm quite certain we've left any semblance of your virginity far behind us."
Emma doesn't blush, but she does feel very warm at the memories of their private adventures together. She also doesn't mention that she happily shredded her v-card years ago, even before she got pregnant with Henry, feeling it might put a damper on the good mood they're both in. "What would you have worn?" she asks.
"Something that makes me look dashing," Killian supplies immediately. "Though I think going starkers might offend those with delicate sensibilities."
She laughs, thinking about how the various people in Storybrooke might react to that. "I liked what you wore in Camelot," she admits. "Though I liked your brown frock coat too. And I like the pirate greatcoat, and this new leather jacket… I'm not being helpful," she says. "You're dashing in whatever."
"Dashing in whatever," he repeats, mimicking her accent. "Truly, I've never felt so complimented."
"My very own knight in shining whatever," Emma says, grinning wider at the look he levels at her, the one that says he knows when she's quoting something. "So, our fairytale wedding would involve a corset I can't breathe in, fancy food I won't get to eat, enough jewelry to fund a third-world country for years?"
"Precisely. Though you did try one of the samplers a footman was wandering about with at your father's engagement party."
She makes a face. "It looked like crab. I don't think it was crab."
"I don't think you want to know what it was," Killian says, the look on his face making her think twice about asking him anyway. Probably some scorpion god or other mythological creature. God. First chimera and now scorpions.
"We would not have chimera on the menu," she says.
Killian looks surprised. "It's quite nutritious, Swan!"
"I don't care, it's a wedding not a diet plan."
There's a twinkle in his eye that makes her suspicious as he kneels and she takes a turn around his prone form. "So we'd find some way to make that popcorn-chocolate-malt mess you make?"
She meets his eyes as they rise from their bows. "Absolutely. My wedding, my specialties."
"I wonder how grilled goat cheese tastes…"
"You'd know, Captain Goat's Milk."
"Oi!"
She laughs as he twirls her, breaking the waltz to dip her low before bringing her close. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees his eyes flick down to her lips. His eyelashes are so long, she thinks dazedly. "See something you like?" Emma asks, sounding far less breathless than she feels.
He nods, ever so slightly, and she feels the heat from his face on hers. "I'm thinking how I very much regret how our morning was interrupted," he murmurs, "and how I very much want to kiss you right now."
She nudges his nose with hers. "I'm not gonna stop you."
He hums, his lips brushing against hers softly for only a moment before pulling away. There's a noise, like a strangled whine, and it takes Emma a moment to realize that it came from her. "Teasing," she whispers.
"Pirate," he tells her, voice low and husky, then dips his head down to press his lips against hers with more determination.
Electricity zips through her, starting at where their mouths are fused together and warming her body right down to the tips of her toes. He drops her hand, his hooked arm pulling her in closer, and her hand goes to the back of his head. Her fingers comb through his hair, twirling and pulling the little ones near the base of his neck just the way he likes, and he groans into her mouth in approval. She feels his erection pressing against the seam of her jeans and really, really just wants to shove him into the nearest broom closet and have her wicked way with him - again - but the hazy, sober part of her mind is reminding her to go find her parents and fuck all of this she just wants to go hide in their house and have lazy engagement sex. Again. And then have more.
She tries to speak between kisses. "We should-"
"We don't need to-"
"Killian, fuck-"
"Oh I plan to, Swan, over and over and-"
She groans, reluctantly pulling back. His pupils are dilated and his chest is heaving and he's looking at her like he wants to devour her, and more than anything else in the world she wants to let him. But her nagging sense of responsibility won't shut up. "Let's find a way to both appease and ditch my parents ASAP, okay?" she asks.
Killian reaches up and tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Aye. The sooner the better."
Things, however, do not go as planned; Emma's not even sure why she's surprised anymore, not after living in Storybrooke for so long. Zelena going rogue and trying to take on the Black Fairy alone throws everything off balance, and Emma sends Killian home while she and Regina take care of Zelena's magic problem. She tries not to be resentful - Zelena's actually doing the heroic thing this time around, actually making amends for her mistake, and Emma's the only one with enough light magic to revive the Blue Fairy - but she has a wedding to plan and a pirate to fuck. Babysitting the witch sisters so they don't end up killing each other isn't high on her list of things to do.
It's dark by the time she leaves Gold's shop, hellbent on returning home and so help her if her mother is at the house because Emma will not have any qualms about kicking Snow out. She's tired, she's been on edge all day, and using her magic always gives her a little buzz so she's itching to put it to good use.
The house is quiet when she gets inside, the downstairs dark and if Emma hadn't seen a light on in an upstairs window she would swear no one was home. She locks up behind her, leaving her jacket and boots by the door, and heads upstairs.
She pauses in the doorway of their bedroom, watching with amusement and a little bit of wonder as Killian tucks the edge of the flat sheet under the mattress. The previous set lays in a heap on the floor, bound for the wash, and it never ceases to amaze her how efficiently he can get things done with one hand when she struggles with two sometimes.
(Well, to be fair, she hates changing the sheets on the bed, but he's also much better at the dishes than she is, and the hook helps when it's time to trim the hedges.)
"Seems a shame," she says, pushing herself off the door frame and entering the room. He looks up, his eyes alight with happiness as she walks towards him and helps him with the comforter. "All this work and we're just going to get it all dirty again."
Killian's happy smile turns decidedly more sultry as he dips to kiss her hello. "It needed doing. We should change them much more often than we do now, but someone insists-"
"Okay, argue chores later, sex now," Emma says, cutting him off by shoving him back on the freshly made bed.
"Yes ma'am."
A thrill shoots through her at his words and she wets her lips with her tongue as she climbs up on the bed to straddle him. She starts to unbutton his shirt, enjoying the way he watches her take control of the situation. "Is that what you would have called me there?" she asks. "If we'd met in the Enchanted Forest, I mean."
He looks at her quizzically. "We did, though."
"I mean like, if the curse never happened. If all this - us, True Love, getting married, whatever - still happened and I was a princess."
She shoves his shirt and vest down his arms and runs her hands across his broad chest. He inhales sharply at her touch and seems to have trouble remembering what they're talking about. "I - I suppose in public," he manages to say as her hands glide down his stomach to undo the buckle on his belt. "Or milady, or your highness. But I rather doubt even a gentleman pirate such as meself would stick much with titles."
She smiles as she undoes the button and fly of his pants. "What about at our wedding?" she asks.
"What about it? Gods-" he bites out as her hand slips down his pants and she takes him in hand.
"Remember our dance earlier?" Emma asks. He nods, his breathing growing more and more unsteady. "I really, really wanted to sneak off into a broom closet. Do you think we'd be able to do that?"
"Here or - fuck, Swan, just like that - at the castle?"
She leans forward, nuzzling his nose with hers. "The castle. I like to think that the princess sneaking off with a pirate to claim her rights as a wife would cause a little bit of a scandal." Killian can't speak at this point, too wrapped up in her ministrations to do anything but nod. "It'd probably be more fun than a royal ball anyway."
Something in him snaps and he surges forward to kiss her. She squeaks in surprise, giggling as he lays back on the bed and rolls them over so she's pinned underneath him. She removes her hand from his pants to avoid any broken... well, anything, and he grinds his hips against hers while his tongue steals between her lips. It's a hurried mess of kisses and accidental headbutts while they attempt to get their clothes off, but after the third time they crack foreheads Emma pushes him off of her so she can properly remove her bra and toss it over in the dirty clothes pile. Her pants and underwear soon follow and Killian pauses momentarily to take in the sight of her climbing back up onto the bed. After a moment, he kicks his own clothes away and quickly undoes the straps of his brace while she unmakes the bed and flops back on the pillows. "I think I like our way of doing things better," she says as he joins her on the bed.
He grins down at her as he settles between her thighs. "As much as I agree, I have to wonder why."
Her head falls back as he nudges her entrance; her legs fall open wider to better accommodate him. "Because," she says, sucking in a breath as he slowly pushes inside. "Imagine Princess Emma and Captain Hook not having all this dirty engagement sex."
She exhales slowly when he's fully inside; sometimes it's hard to relax when she's so wound up and he's big enough that it can hurt a little when she's too tense. Killian waits a moment to let her adjust. "I'd like to think I may have appealed to your baser instincts, love," he says, between peppering her face with kisses.
"Oh, so you'd have seduced the princess before our wedding?"
He grins at her mock indignation. "Would the princess have welcomed such a seduction?"
Emma pretends to think about it for a moment, then smiles slyly. She wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, giving him the signal to move. "Maybe Princess Emma would have gotten tired of waiting. Maybe she would have been the one to seduce Captain Hook."
His eyes darken at the thought and he surges forward, kissing her as he begins to thrust into her with earnest. She meets his every movement, their hips meeting in a dirty grind that makes her feel like her skin is sparkling from how good it feels. He ducks his head to take a nipple into his mouth and Emma falls back against the pillows, telling him loudly and without words how he makes her feel.
Maybe being on edge and forced to keep their hands to themselves all day was a good thing, because the wave of pleasure that crests inside her is one of the best orgasms she can ever remember - and she'd had some pretty good ones last night. Emma's nails rake down Killian's back as she rides it out, and a moment later she feels him still as he spills himself inside of her. He doesn't quite collapse on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows as he lets his head fall against her collarbone; they both struggle to catch their breath, too worn and sated (for the moment) to speak or even move much.
He rolls off of her eventually, though, and Emma shakily gets to her feet to go clean herself up. She glances at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she cleans herself, smiling at her own flushed cheeks and the messy hair that screams to the world that she's just been fucked and fucked very well. She doesn't know what she did to deserve him, but she's happy.
She's happy, she loves him, she's loved in return, that's all that matters.
She brings him back a damp washcloth, letting him clean himself while she gets back under the covers. She suspects they're not done for tonight, so she leaves the lamp on as she curls up against his side, tangling her leg between his and resting her hand on his chest. Tossing the dirty cloth over to the rest of the dirty clothes pile, Killian puts his arm around her, holding her close. She settles more firmly in the crook of his arm and drags her fingers through his chest hair, smiling at how even now his body reacts to her touch with goosebumps and sharp inhales. He gives her this little moment of touch before stilling her fingers with his own, lacing them together and bringing their clasped hands to rest against his chest. She glances up, wondering why he's stopped her. There's a brief flash of regret on his face before he opens his mouth. "How did this evening go?" Killian asks.
Emma sighs, letting her weight drop against him. This is her favorite place to be, naked with him in their bed, and she really doesn't want to bring up Zelena or Regina or the Black Fairy, but there's no such thing as "off the clock" for the Savior. She resolves to keep this short so they can get back to more important things, like testing out his refractory time. "Zelena gave up her magic. She thought she'd die, she didn't. I have to hand it to her, though, it looked like it hurt like a bitch and she didn't let it show."
"And the crystals?"
Emma shrugs. "Clear as far as we can tell. There's talk of getting the dwarves to mine the rest of them out so the Black Fairy can't try plan B on them, but we set her back for now. And I was able to use the one we had to revive Mother Superior, Gold had her... I don't know if she was in some kind of magic coma or what, but she was in the back of his shop."
Killian scowls and she hates that she had to bring Gold up. "Of course he did."
"She'll be fine now." Emma props herself up on her elbow and runs her fingers along his scruffy jaw. He meets her eyes and she smiles encouragingly, even if she doesn't feel it herself. Just bringing this all back up has brought her mood back down and she doesn't like it, doesn't like this gloom hanging over her happy place. "We can talk to her about the other half of the wand you brought back when she wakes up. We can do this."
He sighs, closing his eyes for a long moment. "I know, love." He pushes himself up to meet her, kissing her softly. "I believe in you, Emma Swan. You can do this."
Emma closes her eyes against the hot sting of tears she feels building; this is a happy time, dammit, she doesn't want to cry or think about the final battle or any of it. She doesn't know how to tell him that his support means everything to her, that she feels stronger just because he believes in her. She rests her forehead against his, cupping his cheek. "I love you," she whispers to him fiercely, hoping that he understands what she doesn't have the words to convey, what it means when she tells him she loves him.
He tilts her chin up and kisses her again, soft, sweet, and full of conviction. Somehow, she thinks, he knows, because he always knows her and everything she can't keep hidden from him. "And I love you, my own sweet lass."
As if determined to prove it to her (again), Emma feels herself being gently lowered onto her back, his kisses no less sweet but growing in number. There's a familiar swoop and flutter in her belly as he presses kisses on her cheeks and her neck and her nose, holding himself above her, and there's no way he's ready for round two, but -
"Plenty to occupy my time until then, love," Killian tells her with a wink, and disappears under the covers.