Title: I Know What I Like (And Boy That Ain't It)
Rating: S for indirect Smuff to include talking explicitly about sexual acts and acting all sorts of couply and fluffy.
Summary: "Okay. Your most awkward sex ever. Shoot." Emma and Killian talk sex. Captain Swan. Oneshot.
A/n: Can be read as a companion piece to "(But Most Of All) I Like The Way You Move", in which I write drabbles about Killian and Emma having adorable, intimate, post coital talks about sex, but it is not at all related as far as plot. I just like to think it's in the same world where this is a normal routine for them, cuddling and trading stories and I might write more in the future. I purposely wrote it with a similar pattern and flow. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know! :)
Emma nuzzled her cheek into the crook of his shoulder and his neck. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she ran her fingers lightly through the thick, dark chest hairs, admiring the lean, toned muscle as she snuggled her body further into his, sharing the warmth, breathing in the familiar musk of sex and body wash and Killian.
"Enjoying yourself, love?"
She bit into her bottom lip, her mouth curving in a flirtatious smirk as she let her fingers continue to trail through the smattering of curly hair down his stomach. "Maybe."
"Insatiable minx," he purred, pulling her closer.
"Just admiring the goods," she teased, batting her eyelashes at him before dropping her head back to his shoulder. "Okay, I've got one. Your most awkward sex ever."
Killian's expression drew into surprise and feigned insult. "I apologize, love, I for one thought it was quite enjoyable."
"Oh shutup," she tipped her head and bumped his chin lightly and rolled her eyes in time as she rolled her body, flopping onto her back, arms outstretched lazily. "You know what I mean. You've got – what - three hundred years under your belt? You've gotta have some good ones."
Killian chuckled warmly and his fingers tangled into her hair that had spread out like a halo sporadically across his chest and the pillow.
This was definitely her favorite time of the day (especially now that she was lucky enough to have this time of the day almost every day). They had easily fallen into the routine of untangling limbs and collapsing into chests or shoulders or bellies and listening to the other breathe. Heavy, gasping whimpers slowly easing into peaceful, natural huffs until one of them struck up the first topic that popped into their heads (which was, more often than not, of an intimate nature that just didn't seem to fit any other time of day).
She'd thought the feeling would have gone away weeks ago - the excitement, the tenderness, the loss of inhibitions - but it hadn't, ever since the day he had leaned over her and whispered to her every delicious thing he liked about making love to her (and her to him). She could be completely open about anything, sex, feelings, their pasts. Maybe it was the afterglow of what was generally mindblowing sex and other times comfortably resting at amazing, maybe it was Storybrooke or the whole magic thing, or maybe it was just him, but she couldn't remember feeling more relaxed than in these moments. It was a thought that whispered two terrifying words along with it that were starting to feel a little less terrifying the more she heard them echoing in the back of her mind.
"Come on, Buddy." Emma poked his taut abs impatiently with her pointer finger. "Most awkward sexual experience. Shoot."
Killian chuckled again and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, coaxing her back to her side so that her chin was resting on his chest. "You forget, Darling, I am first, a gentleman." He kissed the top of her head, lingering there for a moment before leaning back into the pillow.
"Oh yeah?"
"Quite." He nodded. "And thusly, all of my lovers have been impeccable in both form and execution and I haven't a sore word to say about any of them." He paused, clearing his throat awkwardly as he reached up to scratch behind his ear and added in a lower voice, "Regardless of what the truth may be..."
Emma hummed, contentedly amused as she dropped an enticingly slow kiss to his chest. "Come on, pirate. Who am I gonna tell? Unless you have something to tell me about all that time you've been spending with Granny…"
Killian cocked his head to the side curiously. "And what makes you think she would be involved in such stories? She seems like a lovely lady, an experienced woman of the world who-"
Emma smacked him lightly and he grunted in response, refraining from finishing the rest of that sentence.
"Ha, ha, very funny."
"I tend to think so," he grinned, his teeth flashing white in the pleasant dimness of the bedroom.
"Okay, fine." She shifted around until she was lying horizontally, her head resting gently on his stomach, her feet edging off of the bed. "So there was this one guy, when I was younger. He fell asleep while he was going down on me."
"Going dow- oh," he cut himself off with a quiet snicker as the meaning dawned on him. "Too much to drink, I'd wager?"
"Not a drop, and it gets worse," Emma countered dryly, rolling her eyes. "It took me a whole minute to realize that he wasn't just… taking a break or something."
Killian let out an uncharacteristically loud guffaw, sitting up halfway so he could meet her stare at the ceiling, looking thoroughly charmed by this little tidbit of information. "Taking a break, Swan?"
His eyes clearly said are you bloody serious, while simultaneously shimmering with something like pride, because of course the guy would be proud that he out performed some teenaged ex-lover.
(She loved him for it, in the gentle caress of his bare thigh and happy sigh, if not out loud.)
"What?" She could feel a flush heating her neck and chest for poor, innocent, 16 year old Emma Swan. "It was my first time having a guy do that, I don't know! I just kept looking down and talking to him…"
Killian snorted and plopped back against the pillows; the headboard bumped and groaned as he moved, the creaking of the bed springs filling the comfortable pause. He curled an arm behind his head and finally let out something that sounded like half a sigh and half a laugh.
"Well, was it at least pleasurable while it lasted?"
Somewhat surprised that he'd asked, Emma shrugged. "So-so."
The room delved into silence once again, his fingers still combing a pattern through her hair and she looked up at him expectantly, arching an eyebrow at him. He gave her his what? I'm an innocent angel, Swan look.
"Uh-uh. I don't think so. I'm not going to be the only one sharing and I've got some good ones that I know you wanna hear." After another few seconds, she nudged him playfully and he shook his head, his face breaking out into a silly, accommodating smile that made her feel warm and her heart skip a beat.
"Fine, you win, as always, Swan." He took a deep, dramatic breath, making her smile. Drama queen. "Once, while traveling to a distant land, the Jolly Roger docked a bit off from a small island. There, I met a native woman…" he began in a casual tone. "She had been a virgin, and seemingly in her land, bedding a virgin was stating your express intention to wed. I had been wondering why her father kept serving me from his tribe's alcohol stocks-"
"Her father was there?" she blurted out, jerking her head to look at him.
"Not for the good parts." Emma eyed him skeptically and he shrugged, quirking an innocent smirk. "She was quite attractive and it was free rum. What would you expect me to do?"
"Something like that actually," she replied with a slow roll of her eyes. "So what did you do?"
"There may have been a slight language barrier," he rubbed the back of his neck and grinned at the unamused look on her face.
Emma froze. "Please don't tell me that you're married to some virgin native on an island somewhere."
"Well," there went that ear-scratch again. "She isn't exactly a virgin anymore..."
Emma sat into a half seated position, balancing on her elbows as she stared at him long and hard. "You made that up," she stated finally.
Killian smirked. "...Perhaps."
No fair, buddy. No damned fair. "Alright, you're gonna pay for that later," she said, shooting him a dirty look and lying back down against him. "Come on, gimme a real story," she urged, not really sure why she cared to hear them.
Maybe because in a way she just wanted to know everything about him, good or bad, awkward or smooth. They were still in the early stages of their relationship, everything was still so new and fresh and unexplored (well, maybe not everything). She wanted to know all of his little stories and she wanted to tell him hers and she'd never wanted that with anyone in years.
"As the princess demands," he chuckled softly, muttering about his stubborn love and continued to play with loose strands of her hair that fanned out on his stomach. "There was a night in port, the first time we'd touched land in nearly three months. The men were hungry for more than just a meal, so we stayed at an inn above a tavern." He left further explanation of what exactly the tavern was a proprietor of to her imagination. "We ate, had a few drinks, and," he paused, "-and then I acquired the company of a woman."
"Acquired meaning…"
"She was, uh-" he cleared his throat and then made a sound of defeat, apparently deciding against trying to sweeten the blow of this particular story's details. "Let's just say that I'll never again pay to have my cock scraped by a woman's damned teeth."
"Oh." She wasn't sure what she had expected when he had mentioned the woman was a lady of the night – she had somehow steeled herself for a displaced sense of jealousy – but she only felt a sympathetic sort of shock and- and- "Oh… God. Wow, I-" Emma clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing – she really shouldn't laugh, it must have been horrible, but something about his expression, the uncomfortable note to his tone... "Ouch." She managed finally, unable to keep the smile from her lips, snorting as a laugh against threatened to burst free.
"It wasn't for lack of effort," he grumbled, lifting his shoulders in a helpless gesture. "She was quite thorough in her explorations, if I recall correctly."
Another giggle nearly made it through that time (stop laughing, Emma). "Why didn't you just tell her to stop?"
Killian shot her an appalled look. "Would you, love? I was yet young and inexperienced and I was paying her to do it," his story dissolved into a hearty laugh. "If this was what I received for good coin, I was terrified of what would happen if I happened to offend the woman."
Emma ran a soothing hand over his thigh as she stifled another snigger. "What did you do?"
"The only thing I could," he replied earnestly. "I pretended to be enjoying myself and told her I wasn't paying to finish in her mouth." He glanced at her quickly, as if to assure himself the graphic depiction hadn't been too much for her, but once assured, his gaze became distance and he tipped his head to the side. "The rest of the experience was rather nice, really," he mused, as if recalling a fond memory.
Her playful rub turned into a slap and Killian muttered something joking about choosing the women he lets into his bed more carefully. "Bloody violent, the lot of them."
"Once, I went out with this guy from work. He seemed nice, down to earth, not bad to look at, the works, right? We had a few drinks and ended up at my place. And…" she took a deep breath, reconsidering telling this particular story, but Killian's eyes already sparkled with curiosity. "And… he missed."
"He what?"
"He missed," Emma emphasized, a dark blush flushing her neck and cheeks. She waited, suddenly wishing she could take it back, but it was already too late and Killian was still staring at her blankly. "When we were about to have sex, he missed and shoved himself halfway up my ass." She blurted out, cringing at the memory.
Killian choked on his next breath, coughing and spluttering all at once, his eyes wide with shock and amusement. He opened his mouth, no doubt to question if the man was blind or just stupid to make such a mistake and so thoroughly, but Emma held up a halting hand.
"Yeah. Really. It was 'an accident', at least, I thought it was until he asked me if I minded if he kept going since he was already there."
"Well," he coughed again and chewed his lip playfully, as if unsure of how else to react. Condolences weren't exactly in order, sympathy, perhaps not quite. "Did you, um…" He trailed off slowly, eyes sparkling with mischief, only to be met by the entirely unamused look on Emma's face. "That is unfortunate news," he sighed, tone full of false dejection.
She met his forlorn gaze, furrowing her brow. "What?"
His grin cracked his woeful expression and he blew out a slow breath. "There go my grand plans for the night."
Emma shoved him hard, elbowing him in the side as hard as she could manage with the arm she was lying on and giggled.
"What? I'm truly thoroughly disappointed," he laughed even louder as she tried to smack him again. "You have a lovely arse, Swan."
She didn't even try to stop the surprised laugh that burst from her chest. "It was a horrible experience, okay?"
"I don't doubt it, love," he nodded, still smirking. "The worst I've gotten was a finger, and I nearly jumped out of my bloody skin," he chuckled as Emma's jaw dropped. "I'd only been with a few women at this point, stumbled out of the room half-dressed looking quite distressed, no doubt."
Emma couldn't help it this time either, the giggles bubbled up and wouldn't stop, spilling from her lips until her face turned red and she could hardly breathe. Apparently, young Killian Jones hadn't read much Cosmo. The thought made her laugh even harder, despite a heaved out sigh and a groan from Killian.
(Okay, she might have laughed a little bit too long about that one.)
"I'm pleased my trauma has provided you with so much entertainment, Darling," he began, giving up when she only laughed more and adopting an offended tone of voice. "Do you know how difficult it is to maintain control over a belligerent crew when they hear the story from a mouthy barmaid the next night?"
"Oh my god. Y-You need to stop talking," she gasped out through giggles. She shouldn't be laughing, she shouldn't, but she couldn't stop. God, he was going to give her a heart attack. "I can't-I can't breathe, just imagining you- your face-"
"Aye, my crew found it similarly humorous."
After another minute or two, the laughter finally died down to soft, much more controlled sounds of amusement as they both resumed their stares at the ceiling, Killian's hand going back to playing with her hair.
"A lesser man might have his pride wounded by your incessant laughter," he warned her playfully, waiting for the game to continue as Emma took another deep breath. "You'd better have a bloody good one, Swan."
She shifted in bed, her smile fading. A number of stories played through her mind, but awkward first dates, to complete disasters in the bedroom, but one seemed to resonate in her memories, tugging, nagging at her until she gave into the pull, ignoring the shudder that ran through her spine.
"Once I told a guy I loved him for the first time after we had sex at my place," Emma said quietly, swallowing hard as this next story came rushing back to the forefront of her mind, from where she had hidden it away for so long. "We'd done it before, it'd been a few months, but we just- we connected, you know? I really thought…" she shook her head, without turning to see if he did know. She didn't need the look on his face to be able to know clearly what was there. "And instead of saying it back, he told me he was getting back with his wife."
She felt Killian stiffen, his hand stuttering and then stilling before continuing to stroke over her head, this time without stopping until his fingers curved around her chin, turning her face towards his.
"I love you, Swan."
And there it was.
Three words (well, four), so simply put, so delicately spoken, tender but casual, nonchalant but true. After weeks of tangling in bed and telling stories and voicing thoughts previously unheard by anyone but themselves, no warning bells rang out in her mind cautioning her away as she'd foolishly, somewhere deep down always feared. Her super power remained silent. Those three (four) words spoken so gently, with so much sincerity and that handsome tiny curve of a smile on his lips came with no sense of alarm that she'd felt whenever she thought the words herself – just truth, and with it hope and warmth and an overwhelming sense of safety that she'd almost forgotten came with them.
His hand left her chin and she felt her cheek nestling back into his chest. She didn't look back at him, she didn't kiss him or leap into his arms. There were no fireworks, only safety in the calm, only love. She only breathed in and then, with a feeling that she couldn't describe other than complete confidence, she answered him.
"I love you too," she whispered, feeling her chest tighten and then release, and with it, her entire body, every muscle loosening and melding back into him as all her troubles seemed to melt away in this moment.
One moment passed, two, and finally, he laughed, a tender, happy sound that made her feel warm from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
"I love you, Emma," he repeated, still chuckling from somewhere deep in his chest as his hand went back to its rhythmic, almost compulsive strokes through her hair. "And I hope to never play a role in any of these stories of yours."
She did look at him this time, grinning as she propped her elbows up on his chest.
"Then you'd better watch yourself, pirate."