A/N: This idea came from a prompt I received on Tumblr after I finished writing A Birthday Surprise:

"I was the one who asked for more smut along the lines of Emma telling Killian off during sex. I figured I'd also make a suggestion for you. Maybe a one shot where Killian and Emma are neighbors who hate each other, but have plenty of sexual tension between them?"

Okay, this isn't exactly what they asked for because Killian doesn't hate Emma, and whether she actually hates him or not is for you to decide. Also, this turned into a two shot instead of one.

Emma hates her neighbor. No, hate is really not the correct term. To say she detests him would be more accurate. He's a walking innuendo full of cheesy lines and flirty quips, which gives her goosebumps. Not to mention the thing he does with his brow—the thing that makes her heart skip a beat and makes her skin hot, her breathing transitioning from smooth and rhythmic to sharp and ragged, but she really and truly hates it.

The first time she'd met him, she knew he was trouble.

Emma was carrying a box in her arms, a gym bag slung over one shoulder and a tote strapped to the other as she walked from the elevator to her apartment, panting and out of breath. The box was rather heavy and she feared her arms would give out on her at any second. She couldn't wait to get into her apartment and allow her arms some utter relief from the torture she was putting them through. When she approached the door she knew the only thing left to do was unlock the door.

"Shit!" she grumbled in frustration, realizing the key to her apartment was in her jean pocket because that was where she'd it slid into when the landlord had handed it over.

Emma was trying to figure how the hell she was going to retrieve it without throwing everything on the floor when she heard a voice, that voice, which to this day, is her undoing.

"Need a hand, love?"

Emma almost dropped everything, startled by the smooth British accent that made her blood sizzle, goosebumps crawling over her skin, and she decided to get a peek of the man speaking, but that turned out to be a reckless mistake. Just when she thought he sounded genuinely sincere, she saw the smoldering blue eyes, dark unruly hair and dirty smirk adding to the smug expression on his devastatingly gorgeous face. Yeah, he had the kind of face that stopped a person dead in their tracks, the face that made one rethink every other person in the world they thought was attractive and made a heart skip a beat, because this man was the epitome of handsome in every single way.

And then there was his clothes, which accented the body he was hiding underneath in a sinfully delicious manner, making her blood scream—he was wearing a black v-neck that clung to a rock hard stomach and snug blue, stone washed jeans.

For one second Emma forgot how heavy the box was, too busy gaping at him with her mouth hung open. She tried to compensate the pause in her stonewalled expression by nonchalantly looking away, but she knew the blush flooding her cheeks was a dead giveaway.

Oh, and if his looks weren't enough to kill a woman in his path, there was the goddamn wag of his eyebrows as he added, "All the female neighbors say I'm very talented with my hands," eliciting her automatic response to men who were overly cocky and screamed "douchebag" because she'd really had her fill of that type.

Emma rolled her eyes and clutched her things closer to her chest. "No thanks." She'd rather just stand there holding everything all day than accept his offer.

He chuckled and approached her anyways, extending his stupid hand. "I only meant I always help my new neighbors move in. What can I carry?"

Emma huffed in frustration and tried to shift the box into one arm so she could free one of her hands, but the box was far too leaden for that. It would end up slipping and collapsing onto the floor. "I don't need your help."

He didn't believe her. "You sure, love, because—"

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't need anyone's help," Emma cut him off sharply. She tried to bend down to set the box on the floor, but her bags started sliding and she knew if she bent any further down they would fall from her shoulders. Which would not be good because there were some valuable items in them.

Luckily the guy put his hands up in surrender and offered a small smirk, unoffended. "I've done wonders with these hands and never disappoint, so it's really your loss, not mine." He finally walked away, but Emma was immediately regretting her decision because just as she tried shifting things around in her arms again, she knew everything was just going to come crashing down and would be broken and damaged like her own heart. She cringed at the thought, and maybe it was because she wanted to forget, or maybe it was the reminder of moving to Boston to start over which was what made her rethink her position on accepting his help. Emma closed her eyes briefly, sighing in defeat. "Wait."

Killian turned around, lifting his brow again, and her stomach was doing somersaults as he threw her a questioning smirk. "Yes, love?"

Dammit.

She really hated the way her heart jumped when he used that word. "Not your love... but I could use your help," Emma admitted, which in response, Killian lifted a hand to his ear as though he didn't hear her.

"What was that?"

"I could use your help. Could you please unlock my door?" Emma asked resentfully. The box was getting extremely heavy, but she wasn't going to hand him all of her things and let him inside her apartment. No, instead she was going to give him the key to it.

Real smart, Swan, she chided herself.

"Well you could have asked a little nicer, but I am a man of my word. I would love to help. Why don't I just take the box? It looks rather heavy."

"No, it's fine. I'll set it down as soon as I get into my apartment. Just unlock the door please," Emma asked impatiently. "The key's in my left back pocket. Could you grab it?"

Killian's grin grew lopsided, making her heart stutter as he stepped closer, his brow still raised like it was permanently stuck that way. "I would love nothing more than to grab it, but you might want to be more specific, because I might grab the wrong thing and you're not really in a position to stop me or slap me in the face."

"The key, moron," she spat harshly. She was not in the mood for this. Not after days of packing, five hours of driving and now moving and unpacking. "Grab the key from my pocket. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"No that's alright, love." Killian quickly came around her, slipping his hand into her pocket, but of course it was the wrong one, and Emma's breath hitched, feeling his warm hand through her jeans as his fingers searched around the pocket.

She expelled an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. "The left, not the right."

"Oops, my bad," he chuckled, but his voice didn't sound apologetic whatsoever as he removed his hand and switched to the other pocket. Emma's breath caught in her throat yet again as his fingers curled against her butt when he grabbed the key. "I can think of much more enjoyable reasons I could be reaching into a woman's pocket for a key… or something else…"

"Could you just shut up and unlock the damn door?" she barked impatiently.

"I could if you asked more nicely."

Emma took a breath and spoke more softly this time, trying to calm herself. This man was really getting on her nerves. "Please unlock the door."

"That's better." Killian finally slid his hand from her pocket, slipped the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door.

Emma hurried into the apartment and set the box on the coffee table with a relieved groan before setting her bags on the floor. She turned around, seeing Killian standing in the doorway holding up the key, so she stepped up to him and reached for it, but he pulled his hand away. "Ah, ah, perhaps gratitude is in order before I give it to you," he said, pressing a finger to his lips in suggestion.

"Thank you," she mumbled, ignoring his choice of words and the way his lips pouted when the pad of his finger made contact with it. "Can I have my key back now?"

"That's all your key is worth to you?" he asked cockily, stepping closer and licking his lips.

Emma blushed and shook her head, thinking of other things he could be doing with those lips and tongue of his. "I don't kiss strangers." She held out her hand. "The key, please."

Killian grinned and extended his free hand, taking hers to shake it. "Of course, the name's Killian Jones."

Emma scoffed, but didn't pull away. She really had to give this guy kudos for his persistence. So, with hesitance, Emma gripped his hand firmer, hoping it hurt. "Emma Swan."

"Well now that we're not strangers anymore… how about that kiss?"

Emma blushed and opened her mouth, flicking her tongue around the inside and scanning his features. This guy was really asking for a good beatdown, but she couldn't give him that kind of satisfaction, and she knew he wasn't going to back down easily. She'd have to call the cops on his cocky ass first.

So, instead, she fisted her hands around his shirt, and in one swift motion, launched towards him, smashing her lips into his. Their mouths collided in a searing kiss, and the surprised groan that tore from his throat surged through her body, making her shiver all the way down to her toes as their mouths opened for one another in cadence.

Their tongues swiped fiercely at one another and connected, liquid heat rushing through her veins as he cupped the back of her head in his hands, eager fingers weaving through her golden locks. Emma felt like she was suffocating in his hold, but she didn't want it to stop. His scruff was scraping against her skin, she craved it every time they parted against one another, and his lips were soft, but firmly pressed to hers and so delicious, she hated him for it.

Slanting their heads and drawing in the other's breath until there was no air left in her lungs, she pressed him closer, her breasts hard against his chest. He responded with a growl, the deep rumble rising from his throat and tugging her belly. As sexy as it was—the kiss, the man on the other side of it, the gentle way he sucked her tongue and bit her bottom lip, the noises he made as she swallowed them all down—the sound made her stumble back to reality and literally, yanking her from the lust currently muddling her brain, and she ripped her mouth from his, gasping onto him for dear life.

He chased her lips, but she pulled away, taking in the way he looked—completely destroyed, his eyes hooded and dark as he blinked several times, his lips swollen as he tried to catch his breath.

"That was..."

"A one time thing." Emma took advantage of his vulnerable state and grabbed her key from his grasp, pushing him backwards until he was in the hallway. He was completely devastated and bewildered when she grabbed the knob and slammed the door in his face.

After that, she had done everything she could to avoid him because every time she saw him, the memory of that day came flooding back, and all she wanted was to forget.

So when Emma had hurried into the elevator in her tight, low-cut red dress after chasing and catching a mark, looking forward to taking off her heels, slipping into a hot bath and reading a good book, she hadn't expected her stupid neighbor to jump in before the doors slid shut. She also hadn't expected him to be carrying a bottle of rum he bought from the liquor store and she hadn't expected him to be even more handsome than she'd remembered. She also hadn't expected the elevator to stop working and their phones to be out of service.

Fucking hell.

And now they're sitting on the floor sharing the bottle of rum as she tries to convince Killian she hates him. Which she does.

"Then why did you kiss me if you hate me so much?"

"To get you off my back."

Killian raises an eyebrow, a wicked smirk tainting his lips. God, he really needs to stop doing that. It makes her heart flutter too fucking much. "Love, if anything, kissing me would put youon your back."

Emma rolls her eyes, mumbling under her breath, "You wish."

They haven't had much to drink, but Emma's feeling a buzz as she hands over the bottle of rum and glances at her annoying neighbor who takes another swig from it. At least the tiny bit of alcohol in her system makes him more tolerable, and if she's being honest, his eyes seem to be even more blue, his smile much more attractive and the thing he does with his eyebrow is way more sultry than she'd prefer to admit.

Killian gulps down the amber liquid and lowers the bottle, wetting those pretty pink lips of his.

Emma wishes she were the one awarded with that task, of feeling his lips and scruff against her skin (but it's only the alcohol speaking) as she leans back against the wall, averting her gaze away from him.

"I've an idea."

Lifting a brow, she turns her head to face him again. "Uh oh, this can't be good… unless your idea is getting the elevator to work so we can part ways of course."

Killian emits a suppressed laugh as he cranes his neck, languidly rolling the back of his head against the wall to look her in the eye. "And give you what we both know you don't really want? I think not. I had quite a different plan, actually."

"And what's that?" Emma's definitely not interested in anything he has brewing in that dirty mind of his. Not. at. all.

Killian's lips widen into a dark smirk, his eyes glittering with a combination of mirth and devilry, and her breath does not catch in her throat, nor does her heart stutter. Okay, maybe a little. "I want to play a game. You claim I have no effect on you, you claim you hate me with every breath you take, so I say, you prove it."

Okay, Emma kind of said that, and she kind of likes where this is going. "No problem, Jones. Tell me what I have to do," she murmurs before grabbing the bottle of rum from his hand, their fingers making contact, and she takes a quick drink, the liquid burning as it slides down her throat.

Killian leans in, his lips way too close to her ear, and his hot breath hovering over her skin, making her shudder. "The game's simple, really. In fact you, my love, don't have to do a thing," he ends with a click of his tongue, his silky accent sending shivers down her spine.

"Don't call me that," Emma warns him, but honestly her heart is thumping and her interest is highly piqued, "but please do go on."

"It's called Ten Minutes. You give me ten minutes to do anything I want to you—touching, teasing, kissing, biting, whatever I want. You so much as moan or make any sound of pleasure, you lose."

Emma bites her lip at the idea of him doing all those things to her and feels heat creeping into her cheeks. "And if I win? What do I get out of this?"

"If you win, I will never bother you again."

A grin spreads across her lips. "Okay, you totally made this game up, but sure, I'll play along," she decides confidently. She has no doubt she'll win, so why not? Emma sits up and places the bottle on the floor, glancing over at him again. "You're on, Jones." She stands from the floor, ready to get this over with as she looks down at him, waiting for him.

For a second, Killian seems surprised, his pupils dilating with disbelief, and his cocky bravado suddenly vanquished. "Really? You'll play along?"

Emma shrugs. "Sure, why not? I will definitely win this, so I'm not worried."

Killian's eyes light up in excitement, a mischief-laced smirk gracing his sinful-looking mouth as he stands up pulling out his phone to bring up the timer. "Before I start, shall we establish some rules?"

"Well, you said whatever you want. So rules kind of defeat the purpose, don't you think?"

He grins and sets the timer. "I do love the way you think, Swan. Although, if it were up to me, we'd be in your room instead of this elevator and you'd be completely naked."

Emma's cheeks flush with pink and she bites her lips to suppress the imagery his words have formed. "Yeah, too bad we don't have that option at the moment. Let's just get this over with."

"As you wish." Killian presses start and sets the phone down before coming up behind her.

Emma loses a breath, her heart pounding when she feels Killian's touch as he slides his hands down her arms. The path of his fingertips ignite her skin, she trembles and closes her eyes, preparing herself for anything. Why didn't she accept his offer for setting rules again?

Killian swipes her hair over one shoulder, and his hands move to her shoulders, gently rubbing and kneading soothing circles into her skin.

"Really? You can do anything you want, and you go with a back massage?" she asks with a snort, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

She can feel his breath on her skin when he leans in, whispering into her ear. "I'm just warming you up. You're too tense, just relax." His voice is soothing and sinful all at once and his hands actually feel amazing as he works on her shoulders and upper back, but she doesn't make a sound.

Emma draws in a shaky breath, letting it out very slowly as he gently works on the knots in her muscles.

"That's a good lass," he purrs, and this time his lips are on the shell of her ear, making her quiver underneath his touch.

Killian moves down her back, kneading and smoothing the tightened muscles, but he doesn't stay there very long, because it's probably been two minutes already. It's only been two minutes and he's barely touched her, but Emma's already completely sober and she can feel her body crumbling to pieces underneath him, a tingling sensation all over, the blood rushing to her head, making her dizzy. She tries to think about other things, but as soon as Killian grabs her hips and presses her flush against his body, Emma gasps. She bites back a moan when his lips descend to her neck, exposed and flushed, as she attempts to steady her breathing. His mouth is warm and heavenly, and his breath is blazing hot, massaging her pulse point, his stubble scratching her skin, tongue darting out to lick her tender flesh.

You can do this, she tries to coax herself, but let's face it, she's a fragmented mess, her core is aching and her nipples are hard as a rock. She still remains confident… until he takes the bottom of her dress in his hands, scrunching up the fabric and pulling it to her hips, exposing her panty-covered nub. His hands find the apex of her thighs, palming her flesh and she has to bite her bottom lip wishing he were closer to her center, which at this point is dripping wet. At the same time, she hopes he doesn't because then he would know the effect he has on her, if her trembling body, shallow breaths and the way she molds into him doesn't already. Killian begins kissing the shell of her ear, his lips engaging her lobe with open-mouthed kisses. He pulls the tip of her ear with his teeth, and she can hear little groans under his breath as he massages her thighs and hips without touching the place she wants him the most.

"Fuck." Emma's breathing becomes ragged and loud, almost turning into a moan, and she knows she's not going to last much longer. Killian smirks against her ear and she realizes what she's just done. "That doesn't count," she attests. "It was a sound of disapproval."

"Whatever you say, love." He doesn't sound too concerned, and suddenly he's spinning her around until her back is being pressed into the wall, Killian's body on hers in an instant, the air escaping her lungs. He hoists her up and she squeals at the satisfying feeling of being trapped between him and the wall as she wraps her legs around his hips.

His teeth are nibbling on the bare part of her shoulder, gently pulling the skin into his mouth and sucking hard, and her panties are completely drenched. Emma can no longer hold back when his erection is embedded into her center; an audible moan finally escaping her mouth. "Killian," she breathes heavily. "Don't stop."

Killian lifts his head, looking into her eyes, and to her surprise, he's not giving her a smug smirk or quirky brow; he appears to be utterly wrecked, his eyes clouded with lust. "I wasn't planning on it." He captures her lips and thrusts his hips into hers, their clothed centers rubbing together so deliciously, Emma thinks she might come right there.

Killian can sense she's close and kisses her breathlessly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and finding hers. She swallows the groan he offers when their tongues collide in a fiery, rapid dou and she grinds her hips against his, seeking more friction.

Without breaking the kiss, his hand moves from her waist and slides between her thighs, pushing her panties aside, his fingers slipping into her wet, aching heat. Emma's cries are muffled by his mouth, but not restrained as she moves her hips, chasing more of his fingers. Killian releases her lips, smirking against her mouth, panting fiercely.

"You like when I touch you, don't you, love?"

Emma whimpers when his movements stop.

"Tell me, Emma."

"Fuck you," she mutters, her breathing shaky as she bucks her hips, begging for him.

Killian growls, plunging his fingers into her heat, and she's really starting to love that sound. "Tell me you love when I touch you."

"Yes! I love when you touch me! I love the effect you have on me!" she screams, hoping he'll relieve her of this blissful torture.

Thankfully, he gives her what she craves, and so much more, as he pumps three digits into her, his thumb flicking her clit. "That's a good girl."

She whimpers, her nectar erupting over his hand, fingers tightening around his shoulders. She's never been a fan of foreplay; whenever she's bedded a man, he's never been talented enough to pleasure her with his hand alone. In fact, she's never really been that satisfied in bed, but God , she loves being fucked by Killian's fingers. And she hates that she loves it.

"You stupid asshole!"

"That's it. Let this asshole make you come."

Letting her head fall back, hitting the wall, she screams unabashedly when she jolts and explodes with ripples of pleasure because Jeezus. Fucking. Christ. That's incredible.

Killian's movements slow, letting her ride his fingers through the aftershocks as she slumps against the wall, fighting for air.

Somewhere during that time, when her mind is floating on a blissful cloud, the elevator comes to life and Killian hurries to right her clothing, letting her feet fall to the ground before he smooths out her dress, pressing it into place. They look at the timer and there's still thirty seconds left. Killian grins, his eyebrow curving, and now his cockiness is shining through again, but she doesn't care. Emma takes his hand and pulls him out of the elevator.

His face contorts in confusion. "Where are we going?"

"We're raising the stakes," she replies, a bit of devilry in her smile.

Killian arches a brow in curiosity as they reach her door. "Please do tell, love."

Emma retrieves her keys from her purse, unlocking the door as she looks over at him. "You've won, obviously, so let's see how many times you can make me come." Emma's smirk reeks of mischief as she leans in, whispering in his ear. "But instead of ten minutes... you get an hour." She can hear him gasp as she slightly pulls away. "Unless you're not up to the challenge of course."

Killian stands there practically drooling as his tongue traces his bottom lip, excitement buzzing in those goddamn blue eyes. "Oh I'm up. I'm definitely up."

Emma giggles and takes his hand, pulling him inside the apartment, never breaking their gaze. "Good."