AN: So, I wrote smut? lmao I legit have no idea where the hell this came from but here it is (this is my first time writing anything like this, please be gentle) (pun intended).

(Un-beta'ed)

Emma Swan had very few things that belonged solely to her. Jumping around various foster homes and orphanages had resulted in her growing up having to share her clothes, her food, her space, and sometimes even her bed. So sharing a dorm room with one other girl shouldn't have been a big deal for her; and it hadn't been at first. Her roommate freshman year had been tolerable, likeable even. She and Emma hadn't exactly been close, but during their three years together, they'd become friendlier than Emma was with most people on campus (save for her two best, and admittedly only, friends Mary Margaret and David). But after their third year, the girl (Ruby had been her name) had decided to transfer to another school, resulting in Emma having to live with a complete stranger her senior year.

At first, it'd been fine. The girl (Milah), was relatively quiet, organized, and mostly kept to herself. The worst thing she'd done the first six months they'd been rooming together was leave her desk lamp on as she an pulled an all-night study session (not an uncommon occurrence in college, especially when you were studying law, as Milah was). For a while, the two of them had co-existed quite nicely, everything had been fine.

That is, until Milah started seeing someone.

Suddenly, she was talking loudly on her phone until three in the morning, coming back to their room drunk in the middle of the week, and leaving her belongings all over the room. Emma did note, however, that she had enough decency to not bring her new beau to their shared quarters and while she appreciated that, Milah's newfound habits were really starting to grate on her nerves. She got it, really she did. This is the sort of thing people did in college. It wasn't as if she hadn't gotten smashed at a party or two in her three and half years here, or forgot to pick up after herself because she was just too tired. Maybe Emma had just had enough of sharing, maybe she was just ready to have something that was just hers, something that operated the way she wanted it to.

Just one semester left, she reminded herself.

It was Friday, and Emma had had a rough week (ugh, midterms). She'd been looking forward to having a nice, quiet night in following her return from class that day, only to walk through the door and trip over the boots Milah had left there. After kicking them to her side of the room in annoyance, Emma had trudged over to her bed to set down her things, only to discover that several pieces of her roommate's clothing had taken up residence there. Now fuming, Emma gathered the various shirts, skirts, and pairs of pants in her arms and dumped them onto the floor where she'd kicked the shoes. And then Milah waltzed through the door, happy as a clam, completely oblivious to Emma's bubbling rage.

Needless to say, Emma had really laid into her. Weeks of bottled up anger came surging to the surface and twenty minutes later, Emma was grabbing her phone, her wallet, and her keys, and storming out into the hall.

So much for that "nice and quiet" evening.

Silently fuming, Emma marched down the stairs and into the cool, night air with no idea where she should go (because she sure as hell was not going back in there for a while). Sighing, she unlocked her phone and dialed Mary Margaret with the intent vent.

"Hey, Emma," came the cheerful voice of her best friend after a couple of rings.

"Hey," she grumbled in response, aimlessly walking away from her building lest her roomie decided to leave as well (the last thing she needed was to make a scene in the middle of the quad).

"You sound surlier than usual, everything okay?" Mary Margaret asked coolly.

"No," she spat, not paying attention to where her feet were carrying her, "I just had it out with Milah."

"I see," her friend began thoughtfully, "You wanna come over and talk about it?"

Emma ran her free hand through her hair and sighed as she continued walking, "No thanks."

"You sure?" Mary Margret asked, her tone placating, "David's coming over in a bit. We were going to have dinner and watch that movie he was talking about yesterday."

Emma allowed herself a small smile at that visual; Mary Margaret and David had met in their sophomore year and had been a couple ever since. It should've been annoying how perfect and adorable they were together, but for some reason it wasn't. Perhaps it was because they were the closest thing she had to a family.

"Sounds fun, later maybe," she said, her anger having ebbed somewhat as she traipsed down what she now realized was Greek Row. Their conversation came to a momentary halt as Emma's attention was drawn to the ruckus a few houses down; one of the fraternities appeared to be having quite the party (and it was only eight o'clock).

"Emma? You still there?" Mary Margaret asked, drawing her attention back to their conversation.

"Yeah, sorry," Emma said, making for the house throwing the party, "Look, I think I found somewhere to blow off some steam for a bit. Mind if I call you later about that movie?"

"Yeah, sure, do what you've gotta do, Ems," she responded enthusiastically before whispering, "Maybe find yourself a hottie, while you're at it."

Emma laughed suddenly in surprise, "Wow, Mary Margaret, are you suggesting I hit it and quit it?"

Mary Margaret snorted (God, they were both so immature sometimes), "I'll leave that up to you."

Emma laughed again in response as she came to a halt outside of the Kappa Delta Phi house.

"We'll see what happens," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear, "Hey, thanks for cheering up, Mary Margaret. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Anytime, Emma," Mary Margaret said sweetly, "Call me later if you wanna join us, okay?"

Emma nodded despite the fact that her friend couldn't see her, "Will do."

Once she and Mary Margaret had said their goodbyes, Emma returned her phone to the back pocket of her jeans and turned her attention once more to the house; it was brick, had the typical Greek-style columns, but was a touch smaller in size than the rest of the houses on the block. Not that that made much of a difference; she was here for the party (and, most importantly, the booze) not the décor.

It occurred to her as she climbed the steps that this might be one of those private, "by invitation only" parties some of the fraternities and sororities had from time to time, but she figured there was no harm in trying to get in; the worst they could do was ask her to leave, which was no skin off her back.

The door was unlocked when she tried it so she pulled it open and walked inside. The slight stench of alcohol and sweat made her nose scrunch slightly as she maneuvered herself around the people loitering in the foyer. No one looked twice at her as she made for the kitchen that she hoped housed the refreshment she sought. She smiled triumphantly when she spotted the coolers lining the countertops. She wretched the closest one open, dug a can of beer from the ice, and popped the tab, relief and alcohol flooding her body. Maybe tonight would turn out alight after all.

A few hours later, Emma found herself in a situation with no idea how she'd gotten there. One minute, she was pleasantly buzzed and flirting with some cute, blond frat boy in the common area and the next, she was what could only be described as completely sloshed and shoving some scruffy, dark-haired guy up again the wall in a hall way upstairs. She heard his broken moan as she assaulted his neck with her mouth, felt his hands as they tangled in her hair, felt his hardness against her thigh as she pressed herself against him.

"Bloody hell," she heard him murmur as she mouthed her way down his neck, her hands sliding down his chest and coming to rest on his belt.

Emma pulled herself back slightly, giving herself the room she need to unbuckle it, when he suddenly caught her hands. Emma looked up at him in surprise and had time to register the disheveled state of his hair (when had she done that?) before he was pushing her up against the opposite wall and attacking her lips with his own. He tasted like rum and she closed her eyes, groaned, and wove her arms around his neck, fingers knotting themselves in his thick hair as his lean body pressed her into the wall. His hands were everywhere; snaking beneath her shirt and lightly caressing her curves, running through her hair, squeezing her ass.

He was playing her like a fine tuned instrument and, holy shit, she never wanted him to stop.

Without warning, he ripped his lips from her mouth and dragged them slowly down her neck, setting her skin aflame. She panted, breathless from his kiss and from the lust clouding her brain. One hand was still in his hair, the other braced on his shoulder when she found herself abruptly asking, "What was your name again?"

She felt him chuckle against her the skin of her throat as he slowly continued his descent, the scruff of his beard tickling her skin.

"Killian, love."

Emma bit back a whimper, his desire-ridden voice going straight to her groin.

"Emma," she told him breathily as he sucked on the skin above her collar bone. His body held her up as his left hand trailed down her stomach, flicked open the button of her jeans, and slipped inside.

She didn't even bother trying to stop the whimper that came when his thumb lightly circled her clit.

"Oh, God."

He chuckled again, his wicked mouth still working a dark bruise onto her neck, "Its Killian, darling, remember?"

Emma's laugh caught in her throat and turned into a breathy moan when he suddenly slipped a finger into her wet heat, his thumb continuing to circle her bundle of nerves.

"Gods," he growled into her neck, fingers working her slowly as she rocked her hips against his hand, "You're soaking, lass."

Emma moaned again, pulling Killian's mouth back up to her own. She swept her tongue along the seam of his lips and groaned when they parted and his tongue tangled with hers. The combination of his lips, his tongue, his scent, and his fingers drove her up the wall and when her orgasm crashed over her, it was without much of a warning. His fingers continued to stroke her as she rode it out, moaning into his mouth as she continued to kiss him, her walls fluttering around his fingers. They broke apart when her shuddering subsided, foreheads resting against each other as they fought to catch their breath.

Emma opened her eyes as Killian gingerly removed his hand from her jeans (which were now half way down her hips) and met his eyes, blown wide with lust. His lips were bruised and his hair was even more disheveled than it had been earlier. To put it mildly, he looked utterly and completely wrecked (she was sure she looked just as bad, if not worse).

His darkened eyes searched her face hungrily and Emma's breath caught in her throat at the intensity she saw in them. She held his gaze as her hands slowly slipped down his chest, and when they fell to his belt this time, he didn't stop her. She swallowed and looked down as her hands clumsily unbuckled his belt and popped open the button of his jeans. She brought her eyes back to his when she slipped her hand beneath the waistband of boxers. Her hand encircled his length and she watched as his eyes fell shut in ecstasy, as his right arm moved to brace itself above her left shoulder, as he bit his lip before burying his face in her neck and groaning. He rocked into her hand and placed hot open-mouth kisses onto her neck as she stroked him, the swaying of his hips causing his pants to slip steadily down.

Even though she'd peaked, Emma found that she wasn't completely sated; the feel of him in her hand made her yearn to have him fill her. His head was still resting on her shoulder so she slowed her strokes and moved her mouth close to his ear.

"I want you."

She bit her lip as he answered her with a moan, lifting his head and meeting her eyes. Her hand stilled as they gazed at each other.

"Are you sure?" he asked sincerely.

She nodded and used the hand not wrapped around his length to push his jeans further down his hips. Once he knew she was sure, Killian wasted no time freeing her right leg from the confines of her pants and wrapping it around his hip. They groaned in unison when he entered her, their foreheads resting against each other once more as he filled her to the hilt. Emma closed her eyes and reveled in the stretch and burn and fullness that came with having him inside of her.

"Emma, fuck, you're so tight, love," he said, panting against her lips, his body trembling as he held himself back.

Emma wriggled against him in an effort to get him to move, damn it. When she realized he was holding back, she brought a hand to his face to get his attention.

"Fuck me," she told him, her voice laced with need, "Please, Killian."

That was all he needed to hear, apparently. Soon he was, quite literally, fucking her into the wall. They moaned and cursed and clung to each other as they chased their releases. Emma came first, the shockwaves ripping through her as suddenly as they had earlier, only this time with more force. The feel of her walls clenching around him sent Killian over moments later. Boneless and spent, he slipped out of her and the two of them slumped against the wall, attempting to catch their breath.

"Emma, that was—," Killian said, his breath fanning across her lips.

"A one-time thing," she finished, trying to swallow away the bad taste those words left in her mouth.

Killian studied her for a moment, before nodding. He threw her a sad-looking half smile and pulled away from her, "Right, of course."

They righted themselves and awkwardly eyed each other as they stood in the hall, suddenly shy despite the intimate act they'd just engaged in.

"Right, well, see you around, maybe?" Emma offered, shuffling her feet and stuffing her hands in her back pockets as if to keep them from touching him again.

Killian nodded and met her eyes as he moved to lean against the wall, "Yeah, maybe."

With that, Emma nodded and turned away from him. She forced herself to not look back as she reached the stairs (though a quick glance from the corner of her eye couldn't hurt, right?) and slowly descended. She moved sluggishly as she seemed to still be drunk to some degree and allowed herself to wonder how they hadn't been caught fucking in such a public place. When she reached the bottom of the staircase, she had her answer; everyone had either left or was passed out. She realized how late it must be and shakily made her way to the foyer and out the front door.

Somehow she managed to make it back to her dorm without killing herself. Milah was already asleep when she came in. Emma sighed, suddenly exhausted (rough sex with strangers will do that to a girl), and closed the door before moving through the darkness toward her side of the room. She fell onto bed, still fully dressed, and was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

When Emma woke the following morning, her first thought was about how her head felt like someone had hit it repeatedly with a baseball bat. Her second thought was that her mouth felt like a desert. Her third thought of blue eyes, tousled hair, and a devastatingly handsome smile. Her eyes flew open at the last thought and she mentally berated herself. She was so close to graduating and starting her life, her career, she didn't need to get hung up on another guy, for Christ's sake.

Sighing, she rolled out of bed and squinted at the sun filtering through the window. Milah was thankfully not there (she so wasn't in a state to rehash their argument right now). A glance at her clock told her it was almost noon and Emma groaned before toeing off her boots and gathering the items she needed to take to the showers.

Thirty minutes later, Emma was clean and in a fresh pair of clothes. She sat on her bed with her back against the wall, a (very) strong cup of coffee in her hand, as she listened to Mary Margaret tell her about the movie she and David had watched. Emma was making plans to hang out with the two of them that night when the door to her room opened and Milah walked in. She stopped short when she spotted Emma, her hand resting on the door knob.

"Hey, do you mind if I call you back in a minute?" Emma asked her friend (who of course acquiesced).

Emma thanked her, hung up, and turned her attention to her roommate (who still hadn't fully entered the room).

"Hey," she said tentatively, moving to sit at the edge of her bed, "Um, look I just…I wanted to apologize for last night. I shouldn't have blown up at you like that."

Milah shifted uncomfortably for a moment before shutting the door and crossing her arms over her chest, "It's fine, you…may have been right about certain things. I'm sorry too."

The two women nervously stared at each other for a moment before a knock at the door interrupted them.

"Oh, uh, that's my boyfriend," Milah said awkwardly, motioning toward the door.

Emma nodded, not knowing what else to do with this information, "Oh, okay."

Milah studied her for a moment before asking, "Did you maybe want to meet him? You know, since you're both here."

"Oh, um, yeah sure," Emma agreed, rising from her bed and smoothing out her shirt.

Milah nodded and moved to open the door as Emma stuffed her hands in her pockets.

God, this is awkward.

She watched as her roommate happily greeted the man in the hall, the door still blocking him from Emma's view. When he stepped in to give her a quick hug and peck on the cheek, Emma saw him and almost had a heart attack.

Holy shit, it's Killian.

Her fucking roommate's boyfriend is the guy she'd drunkenly banged at a party last night, fuck her life.

He hadn't seen her yet and Emma dreaded the moment he did. She watched Milah tell him that she wanted him to meet her roommate. She watched as a crooked smile lit up his stupidly handsome face (God, he looked even better in daylight, the bastard). She watched (in silent horror) as his head turned toward her, as his eyes met hers, as he recognized her, as his face dropped, and holy crap, did she wish she was invisible right now.

"Killian, this is my roommate Emma. Emma, this is Killian," she heard Milah say, her eyes wide as she simply stared at the man before her.

He was the first to shake himself from the shock as he suddenly held out his hand to her and smiled amiably.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Emma."

Emma blinked at his hand for a moment before slowly reaching out to grasp it.

"You too…Killian," she managed, the feel of his skin on hers setting her aflame, just as it had last night (almost as if her body knew it was him and was responding in kind).

She was so fucked.