She can easily remember how it all started. They had been on their third date, which had gone exceptionally well, and found themselves once again in the hallway outside the loft dancing around who would make the first move.
"I had a lovely evening with you tonight, Emma," Killian said softly as he stared deeply into her eyes, holding her hand and casually playing with her fingers.
The combination of his too-blue gaze and the light strokes of his fingertips was generating butterflies in her stomach, causing her to shift from foot to foot.
"Me too. You know what would make it perfect, though?" she said, tilting her head.
"What's that?"
She was thinking, inviting you in for coffee, but that's not what came out of her mouth.
"A goodnight kiss, perhaps?" she said with a cheeky grin, warmth rising to her cheeks.
She didn't realize they were taking small steps backwards until her back landed against the wall with an "oof."
"If the lady insists," he said with a predatory smile, before he leaned in and captured her lips, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against the solid warmth of his chest.
Emma had often watched women getting swept off their feet in movies, but she never imagined that sort of thing would happen to her - by a pirate captain, no less. Yet, here she was, being embraced so tightly her toes were the only thing touching the ground. She surrendered to the passion of the moment, moaning softly as her eyelashes fluttered closed.
The first two goodnight kisses had been sweet, maybe even a little heat-inducing, but this one - Oh God - this one was going to set off the fire alarm.
His hand and hook traveled up the back of her dress, holding her close, while his tongue was pillaging and plundering her mouth in deep, forceful strokes. She found herself parting her lips as much as she could, allowing him access to every part of her mouth. She could feel the pressure of his teeth, sometimes scraping over her bottom lip, and it was all she could do to remain standing, grasping at his shirt with two fists. She could smell him, taste him, feel him completely surrounding her and the effect was intoxicating. She wanted to devour him whole.
Killian pushed his hips forward, pressing his hard length into her right where she needed him. Holy shit. The thin fabric of her dress did nothing to mask the feel of his rough jeans against her most sensitive area, and she relished the sensation. She knew they should go somewhere private, but at that moment she considered letting him take her right there in the hallway.
Over and over he ground against her where her legs were now spread, as she gasped and moaned into his mouth. She wasn't sure if it was months (years?) of sexual tension ready to erupt or just the man himself, but she felt the pressure building more quickly than she would have thought possible. Her leg seemed to have a mind of its own as it lifted from the floor, curving around his hip as he caught it with his hook.
She was clutching his shoulders for dear life, running her fingers into his hair and scratching at his scalp as he sucked and laved at her neck. Her whole body threatened to combust from the friction their bodies were producing, her nipples painfully hard against the rub of his chest.
The sound of footsteps coming from inside the loft snapped them both out of their hypnotic state. Killian pulled back sharply, helping her tug down the hem of her skirt which had ridden up almost to her hips. A rush of cool air hit her body in the space he had previously occupied and she instantly mourned the loss of contact.
Killian, for his part, looked completely wrecked. His cheeks and lips were red, his chest heaving, and his hair was in a wretched state of disrepair, sticking this way and that.
"Apologies, love. That went much farther than I intended it to. I'll not have your father find you like this, so I'd best take my leave." His face was a mixture of concern and flustered heat.
"Are you serious right now? A little noise and you're up and running?" she hissed at him in a voice that was more than a little bit desperate.
"I promise I'll make it up to you," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows, planting one last kiss on her lips before he hurriedly made his way down the stairs, leaving Emma panting and wanting in a way that was entirely unfair.
"For fuck's sake," she said as she rummaged through her purse for her house key with shaking hands and unlocked the door. When she opened it she almost ran smack dab into David, who was carrying a trash bag.
"Emma! I didn't realize you were back already. Did you have a nice time?" he said with wide eyes.
Emma swallowed hard, hoping the dim light covered for the fact that she was blushing profusely. Just thinking about what he might have found in the hallway if they hadn't stopped in time was giving her heart palpitations.
"Sure, Dad. That restaurant you suggested was great!" she chirped brightly, whisking past him and starting up the stairs. "I'm exhausted though, think I'll turn in now. Good night!" She left him standing there, one hand on the doorknob as he watched her climb the stairs. So this is what it feels like to be a naughty teenager, she mused.
Collapsing on her bed, she attempted to calm her racing heart, but all she could think about was Killian. His lips, his tongue, his hand and hook all over her body. The burning sensation between her thighs and the unsatisfied want that left her feeling hollow and needy.
Ugh! That bastard, she thought. He had better learn to finish what he starts.
The next time it happened, Emma wasn't exactly trying to get revenge, but it might have ended up that way.
"Walk you to your room?" she had asked him after having a few after-dinner drinks on the patio at Granny's.
"I'd be delighted," he said with a smile a little bit giddier than usual, adding a wink at the end.
"Feeling a little tipsy tonight, are we Captain?" An infectious giggle escaped her throat as they made their way towards the door. She may or may not have let him walk ahead of her so she could admire the way his ass looked in his jeans as he walked. And did it ever look splendid.
"Nonsense, lass. Captain Bloody Hook can hold his rum with the best of them!"
"I bet he can not only hold it, but he can carry it right out of here, right?" she said under her breath.
"What's that?" he asked, all innocence and confusion, turning to face her. "You know, if I didn't know any better, Emma. I'd say you were trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me," which he punctuated by bopping her on the nose with his index finger.
Is he for real? she thought as she laughed to herself. "You are ridiculous, you know that?"
They continued to the back hallway, leading to the rooms. Killian stopped, turning his head and invading her space until she could smell the rum on his breath. Every nerve in her body was suddenly awake, and she found herself swallowing thickly. She fought the urge to step back as he used his hook to grab some of her hair, accepting his silent challenge as he intently examined her face, shifting between her eyes and mouth.
"I may be ridiculous, but that doesn't change the fact that you find me irresistible," his said, his mouth so close to her ear every last tiny hair on the curve of her earlobe stood at attention. His voice was a low gravelly pitch that sent a bolt of electricity straight to her core.
She didn't bother answering him, instead giving him a sultry smile and grabbing his hand, leading him down the hallway towards his room. It was darker here than it had been in the diner, the wall sconces providing the only dim light as they walked amongst the shifting shadows. Stopping by his door, Emma turned to face him. The quiet of the night surrounded them and suddenly the air was thick with tension.
They shared a heated gaze, and then Emma grabbed his shirt, shoved him up against his door and proceeded to kiss him senseless. He had done enough talking; it was time for him to be at a loss for words for once.
Grabbing his head, she pulled it forcefully down to her mouth, sparing him no time to breathe before she was devouring him swiftly. She was merciless in her assault, yanking his hair as she saw fit in order to get the best angle.
The alcohol was showing its effects, because it took him a moment to catch up. When he did, he tried to take control, spinning her until she landed with a thump against the door. Emma was having none of it, though. Years of work as a bail bondsperson taught her how to win the advantage, and she wasted no time turning the tables on him and pressing him right back where they started.
Before he could protest, she worked her tongue down his neck, rendering him motionless as this new sensation overwhelmed him. She continued her path downward, pushing her fingers inside his open collar as she nosed and kissed her way through his chest hair.
Bending at the knees, she lowered herself further, until her mouth was hovering over his erection, solid and bulging through his pants. He looked down at her then, his face a mixture of tortured ecstasy. She most certainly had shocked him into speechlessness, because there were no words coming from his mouth now.
Emma was enjoying having the upper hand a bit too much, smiling despite herself as she gauged his reaction. Finding herself up close and personal with his lower member, she found herself entranced. She traced it with her fingers, enjoying the sounds he made as she stroked and outlined through his pants. After all his big talk and innuendo, she was dying to know for herself if he 'measured up' to his claims.
Even more than that, she wanted to taste him, wanted to see his face when she held him captive in her mouth. So she pressed her mouth over him, blowing hot air so he could feel it through the thick material of his jeans. He responded by grasping at her hair, a low groan escaping his lips. Moving her lips over him, she continued to explore him up and down, sometimes letting her tongue drag a slow wet line against him. This caused him to gasp, and Emma was more turned on that she'd ever been in her entire life. She may roll her eyes at him repeatedly, but God if he wasn't every bit as sexy as he pretended to be. Irresistable was right.
Emma was knee deep in her thorough undertaking when the sound of steady footsteps broke the spell. "Bloody hell," gruffed Killian, grabbing her shoulders as she rose from the ground.
"Well, I suppose it's my turn to cut and run, Sweetheart," Emma teased, kissing him soundly before she turned and began to leave. "Emma, wait." Killian grabbed her again, stealing one more open-mouthed kiss before releasing her. "Goodnight, love."
She made off down the hallway, not looking back, and almost ran right into Granny herself, who was taking some items to the supply closet. "Goodnight Granny! Thanks for your hospitality as always," she called out, turning to glance over her shoulder at Killian, who was resting his forehead against his door as he turned the key in the lock.
Emma chuckled to herself. If he was anywhere near as ruined as she was last time, it was going to be a very long, lonely night.
After two instances of almost getting caught, they decided to keep things lighter for a bit, which was hard because their desire for one another was simmering at an all-time extreme. Every touch was now torture, every heated gaze an unspoken invitation that recalled their stolen moments. They were happy, though, happier than they'd been in maybe forever, and it helped to sooth the ache that they had for one another.
The ache that came roaring to the surface the minute they found themselves alone.
They were at the loft on a lazy Sunday afternoon, everyone enjoying some downtime in whatever way appealed to them. Killian sat reading a book that Belle had recommended to him, while Emma and David played a game of gin rummy. Henry kept occupied on his tablet and Mary Margaret was taking the opportunity to snooze with baby Neal.
"Hey guys! I'm off to Regina's. Robin and I are supposed to go fishing with Roland this afternoon," Henry called as he made his way to the door.
"Bye, kiddo! Text me if you need me to pick you up later," Emma shot a look towards her son, then resumed shuffling her cards.
A few minutes later Mary Margaret came out of her bedroom with Neal on her hip, looking calm and refreshed. She kissed David on the cheek. "What are you two playing?"
"Just some gin rummy. Want to join?" he replied, covering her hand on his shoulder.
"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to go out for walk with me and Neal?" she asked, smiling. "You don't mind if I steal your rummy partner, do you, Emma?"
"No, not at all! I think he's getting tired of losing," she said with a snort.
"Hey! Be nice to your old man." Rolling his eyes at her, David got up from the table and pecked Mary Margaret on the lips. "Let me just grab my jacket."
Baby safely secured in the stroller, they made their way out the door, closing it with a loud slam, the noise reverberating through the silent loft.
Emma sidled over to where Killian was sitting on the couch, his book no longer holding his attention. Pressing her elbow into the back of the couch and resting her head on her hand, Emma cornered him with her green gaze.
"So, what you reading?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Oh, just an old tale about a man who lived in a lighthouse in Maine."
"Hmm. Sounds...fascinating," she purred, inching close enough to grab his book, peering at the cover. Her knee was brushing against his leg now, causing a noticeable friction between them. Killian closed the book, tossing in on the side table.
"Not as fascinating as you, my darling," he responded, eyeing her carefully.
"You know, we're all alone now. In the loft," Emma said, a soft smile dimpling her cheek, as she looked up at him through her eyelashes.
"Is that so?" he smirked back at her, his eyes an intense shade of blue darkened at the center.
His hand took up residence on her thigh, moving softly against the grain of her pants and leaving heat in its path. His eyes shot to her tongue, which had darted out unconsciously. All she could think to herself was, If this is fire, then I want to get burned.
She's not sure who made the first move, but they dove into each other without pretense, both as eager to taste and consume as the other. They got lost in the heat of the moment, tongues stroking up a storm of unsated need. Emma felt the scorch immediately, her breasts and groin igniting at his touch, until she whimpered into his mouth. She could feel his whiskers rasping against her face, and she reached up to stroke at his jaw.
Pushing her back onto the couch, he pressed the full weight of his body against her and they both sighed at the luxuriousness of the feeling. It was exactly where they both wanted, both desperately needed to be.
Killian's hand found its way to her waist, inching its way up under her sweater. "Oh, God yes," breathed Emma. When he found her breast, she kissed him harder in both affirmation and demand. For her part, she was having trouble not rutting her hips against him, longing to feel the hardened length of his erection pressed into her deeply again. Pulling at his shirt, she freed it from his pants so she could explore the soft skin at his sides. He almost jumped when she touched him there, the feeling of skin on skin so new and exotic.
Working her sweater up over her breast, he brought his mouth down to her nipple as he pulled down the cup of her bra. She cried out when his lips closed over the tight nub and his tongue began to stroke forcefully over it, sending tremors down her body straight to her core.
With deft movements, he had her button undone and her zipper down on her pants before she could bother to help him. They both wanted the same thing, there was no sense in denying it.
When his fingers found her slick folds, her eyelids fluttered closed, a rush of feeling rendering her completely helpless. Killian groaned in appreciation because she was unbelievably wet, her skin made lush as velvet.
He stroked her as he moved from her breast back up to her mouth, kissing her passionately. Emma jerked in response, her whole body screaming out for release, the buildup of tension now years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds in the making. So close.
Footsteps from outside the loft caused Killian to pull his head away, and Emma cried out in exasperation. "You have got to be kidding me," she pleaded to whoever would listen. This was torture in every aspect of the word.
When Mary Margaret and David entered the loft, they found Emma and Killian sitting as far apart from each other on the couch as they could possibly be, Killian seemingly engrossed in his book while Emma flipped through the channels on the TV. If either of them noticed that the two of them looked a bit disheveled, neither of them said anything.
"Oh hey guys. I thought you were going for a walk?" Emma looked up nonchalantly.
"We were!" Mary Margaret smiled brightly. "I completely forgot to bring snacks for Neal though, and I don't want him fussing all the way home. It's almost time to get started on dinner now anyway, so we'll probably just have to skip for now."
When they had moved past them into the kitchen, Emma ran her hand through her hair and let out a deep exhale. Killian was rubbing his palm over his face, a twin picture of aggravation. Whatever was going to happen between them was obviously not going to happen that day.
Emma shook her head. "God, I really need my own place," she grumbled quietly.
This is why later - after they had been separated and reunited; after they had made their declarations of love over and over; after they decided it best to get their own place - together; after they had made love for the first time slowly and reverently; after they had gone on to christen every room in the apartment with their vigorous lovemaking; after he had her bent over the dresser, pounding her hard from behind, his fingers expertly stroking at her clit while she pinched and twisted her own nipples - she found herself chanting with a barely contained whine, "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop."
He didn't that time, and she found herself very satisfied.