"Here, let me," Emma says, taking the stick of kohl from him.
(He's caught her watching him applying it most mornings. Sometimes she'll be brushing her teeth, pretending she's looking at herself in the mirror, but her eyes are really fixed on him and how he's leaning over their vanity to see himself better. Other times she'll be getting dressed, or fixing her hair just behind him, and she's mad if she thinks he doesn't know how her gaze lingers on him. It warms him, just as it leaves him feeling just a little colder when she looks away almost sheepishly.)
She settles herself in his lap, straddling his legs and taking his chin in her gentle hand. He's mesmerized by the way she lets her tongue peek out from between her teeth and how she gently bites her lower lip in concentration. She's gentle when she draws the black lines under his eyes, using her little finger to fix and smudge them just the right amount. "Close your eyes, Killian," she admonishes gently and he almost refuses, not wanting to miss a moment of the myriad ways her face changes in concentration.
As if she's read his mind, Emma tilts his head up a fraction more and her lips graze over his lightly. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs, and the last thing he sees before obeying her is the smile that's just for him: warmth and light and (dare he wish it?) love.
"You have a fascination, darling," he says softly as she tilts his head to the side.
She hums in amusement, the side of her hand warm on his cheek as she lightly drags the stick over his eyelid. "Says the guy who insists on brushing my hair most nights." He chuckles and her hand lifts from his face. She taps his chin with her thumb, chiding him gently for almost making her ruin the line and have to start over. "Besides, we both know what happened the last time I tried to get you to use modern sun protection."
(Ah, yes, he remembers that morning fondly. She had gifted him with a pair of darkened spectacles, calling them sunglasses. (This realm is so funny, everything named either literally or ironically.) She'd said they would work better than the kohl. He'd slipped them on to test her claim and noted with amusement the way her face had changed: eyes wide and lips parted.
They were both late for work, and as they hurriedly redressed to leave she'd expressly forbidden him from wearing the sunglasses in public. "I don't have time to arrest everyone for molesting my boyfriend," she'd said, her cheeks burning a lovely shade of red.)
With a final swipe of her finger, he feels her weight shift back and she declares him "shipshape". He opens his eyes and frowns indulgently at her cheeky grin. "Thank you, love."
She sets the stick on the vanity and drapes her arms loosely around his neck. "It's my pleasure, captain," she murmurs as she rests her forehead against his.
"It's a 'captain' kind of morning, is it?" he asks, leaning in enough for their lips to brush together.
She hums again, meeting him the rest of the way for a slow, deep kiss that he feels all the way down in his toes. He feels his desire stirring low in his belly and he knows she must too from how she's sitting on his lap. She rolls her hips across his once, making him growl at her, and she pulls away with that sinful smile that promises nothing good. "As much as I would love to give you the hair that matches your makeup, we both have places to be soon," she says with some regret.
Fifteen minutes later, when they're both dressed and he's helped pin her hair up and out of the way, she lingers in the hallway, fingering her key ring. He turns to ask what she's forgotten when she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him again. She rakes her fingers through his hair once and pulls away, grinning like the wicked wench she is. "A little teaser for tonight," she promises, leaving him dazed and gaping as she walked away with a little swing in her hips.
Never has he wished for a day to pass quicker than this one.