This CaptainSwan one-shot takes place sometime in the indeterminate post-Season 3 future. Our pirate and princess are in an established relationship, and have been for a fair amount of time for the purposes of this story. It's a bit more risqué than most of my previous fics for this fandom, but I think a T rating still covers it (I hope no one is unpleasantly troubled if I'm wrong there…) As per usual, I do not own Emma, Killian (sadly), Once Upon a Time, or anything to do with them. I would love to read any reviews, constructive criticisms, or other comments you have to offer. Enjoy!
"X Marks the Spot"
By: TutorGirlml
"Well, really Killian, the question is, are you a pirate or aren't you?" she asks with the arch of a beautifully sculpted brow, her smirk taunting him and an evil twinkle in her eyes. Swinging her mane of blond curls over her shoulder as she glances back at him challengingly from where she is rummaging in her closet for her rain boots, Emma Swan is practically daring him.
Undaunted, Killian Jones rocks calmly on his feet, hand tucked in the pocket of the modern, dark wash blue jeans Emma insisted on him trying and gestures to her with his hook. "Lass, you know I am the fiercest pirate captain in all the realms. Why do you question it now?" He wants to laugh at the way she is teasing him; his Swan may be bloody brilliant – canny, strong, and determined – but there is no way she can match him in playful deviousness or flirtation. He does not, however, mind the view she is giving him as she leans over further to reach into the back of the closet in the form-fitting breeches she seems to prefer.
"You think so, do you?" she scoffs, giving him a dubious look as she finally steps back out into the room with the tall, red, rubber boots in hand. "I'm doubting you right now, Jones. What kind of pirate fails to find a hidden treasure?"
His eyes narrow at the challenge, and he begins to stalk toward her on silent, bare feet. The air between them practically vibrates as he takes his time, making her wait as he closes the distance, running his tongue over his bottom lip – a predator moving in for the kill. "Oh, Emma Love," he murmurs, voice low, gravelly, and practically vibrating down her spine in shivers as he leans close to brush his lips along the shell of her ear when he speaks, "you should know better than to play with fire. Perhaps I was merely trying to respect your desire to reach your parents' little dinner party on time. Though, if you truly wish for the pirate to come out to play, Darling…" here he traces the tip of his hook along her collarbone and slides the neckline of her shirt aside until it falls off her shoulder, "…then I can make us quite late."
Emma's breath catches, going shallow on her at his closeness and the heat radiating off him, threatening to set her ablaze. She feels all her playful comebacks fly from her mind as his touch sizzles over her skin. Soon, his nose nuzzles into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, stubble tickling and tantalizing before he languorously kisses his way back up her neck, tongue and teeth aiding in the sweet torment. Her stomach flips, and she leans back slightly as he pushes steadily forward.
The shoes she was trying to put on fall forgotten to the floor as Killian braces his hook arm at her side, knees planted firmly – one outside her left thigh and the other pushing between them – as he follows her movement back onto the bed. A low, contented hum escapes his lips as he works the cotton shirt she'd picked out back up her torso, and impatiently waits just long enough for her to rise so that he can pull it off over her head. The fingers of his good hand skim reverently up her ribcage, barely ghost across the lace of her bra, and out along her arm to capture her hand in his. He raises the back of her hand to his lips, places a delicate kiss there, and still eyes her sensually, never breaking his gaze for a second.
Emma huffs lightly, trembling all over now with both need and anticipation, knowing she has lost the upper hand, but unable to consider herself a loser in this little game they are playing. Just as she is about to pull their joined hands back to herself, he surprises her again.
Grinning wickedly, Killian pulls her hand above her head, pressing it against the pillow easily with it already captured in his grasp. He chuckles low, a dark, decadent sound in his throat, when her eyes widen and a gasp escapes her at his unexpected action. "Pirate. Remember, Love?" he taunts, then leans over to truly plunder her mouth with his.
Heart hammering, Emma bits back the secret smile creeping over her lips. Though she has surrendered control entirely in one sense, she still has Killian Jones right where she wants him. His strong, calloused hand roams freely, making her squirm and writhe with pleasure, but she still can't resist laying the bait when she gets her breath back and gathers her wits enough to do so. "Hmm…I don't know, Captain…" she drawls, as if seriously pondering the question. "While I certainly can't fault your technique, I still don't think you've found your prize. Have you seen any sign of your hidden goal?"
His hook trails dangerously close to her tender flesh as he moves it down her chest, her stomach, making her pant, in awe of the power and control he wields. She is totally at his mercy, and yet she knows without a doubt that Killian will never falter, never harm her.
"So," he murmurs, running the cool metal along the waistband of her jeans, a sharp contrast to the flushed warmth of her skin. "Do you wear a map on your person somewhere, Swan? X marks the spot and all that?"
She laughs giddily, sure now that he is about to discover the surprise she has in store for him. Speaking is becoming incredibly difficult the more he touches and toys with her, and she practically stammers over the, "You'll have to keep looking and see for yourself, Jones," that she tosses his way before he finally undoes the button and lowers her zipper.
As soon as he begins to push the denim off her hips, he sees it and stops as though frozen. Mesmerized. A strange, bewitched expression crosses his face, and he doesn't look away, doesn't blink, even as several minutes pass.
Emma has just begun to get nervous, to fear that she guessed wrong and he hates it, when a smile – bright, wide, and disbelieving – breaks across his face and those ocean eyes flick back up to hers. "Emma…Lass, is that – is that what I think it is?" His fingers are already tracing lightly over the mark gracing her hipbone, the symbol she bears for him to uncover…for only him to see.
She is tempted to lighten the mood, to play it off; he seems so stunned, so awed, that she feels unworthy of such adoration. It had been a serious decision though, so she makes herself lie still under his keen stare. She had wanted to show Killian how committed she was to him, what their being together has done for her. She wants him to see how permanent his place with her is, though she cannot put it into words. She had hoped to give him a picture for the feelings that get stuck in her throat so often when she tries to voice them. "It's a tattoo, Killian….Do you like it?" are the words she finally settles on, biting her lip and looking up at him hopefully.
He can't seem to stop tracing over her still-tender skin, fingers tentative and light across the inked image of a ship's anchor and the initials 'KJ'. When he finally tears his gaze from the tattoo back to her face, there is a sheen of moisture veiling his eyes, one that Emma feels in hers as well. "Aye, you must know that I do. It's lovely, Emma…as is every other glorious inch of you besides."
She grins widely, blinking the haze of unshed tears away and pulling his face down to kiss him enthusiastically with both her hands now free. He cradles her in his arms gently – all teasing, ravishing, taunting, and seduction forgotten in bliss and celebration and true, honest-to-goodness, love. The emotion is pouring from him to her and back again, effortless and overflowing, and Emma basks in its glory. That he understood immediately and she didn't have to try to explain why he is her anchor, her home, the reason she no longer has to run, the one who holds her steady in this place because she would miss him desperately if she left, is only one of the many explanations for how she knows he is hers and that they were always meant to be. For all her earlier joking, Emma knows it is Killian himself who is the real hidden treasure she has been seeking all her life. And now she holds him in her arms.