AN: I'm starting a drabble masterpost, so stay tuned. :)

Rating: S for smut and H for hormones.


tidal wave.

No one's told her it's going to be like this—heated, needy, wanton. No one has ever told her of the consequence (well not really a consequence, more like an incentive considering she's very much enjoying the feel of his tongue on her clit, the quick nips of his teeth against the sensitive bundle of nerves, the way his fingers dig into her hipbone, the sounds he makes, God). But the moment she walked into the door of the apartment after a long day of work at the station, she found herself being pressed into it by a decidedly very hard body, hard in more ways than one. Her lips were being assaulted, a hand inching up until it's under her top, warm palm against the suddenly heating skin of her stomach—Jesus

He pulled back rather abruptly, right when she just registered what was happening, and gave her a devastatingly dashing smile. "I've missed you, love," he rasped against her mouth, all sin and hunger in his eyes, while she, in all her Savior glory, panted and clutched at the hair on his nape.

"Yeah?" she asked breathlessly, pushing her body fully against him, and she really should have known better. "It doesn't feel like it—

And then he's attacking her again, and really, she shouldn't have done that. Or rather, she should have done that a long time ago, because now, she's on her back, on their bed, gasping as he plunges two fingers inside her without so much as a warning. "Killian!" she exclaims, and the chuckle that he exhales against her heated skin makes her want to punch him because he knows what he's doing to her—and he likes it. And when Killian Jones likes something… well—

"Goddamit, Jones!" she cries when he sucked her clit into his mouth, hard. Her hands fly to his shoulders, clutching hard as he does it again. And again.

"Still unconvinced, darling?" he says, looking up at her with those deeply hued eyes and she just—there are no words because her brain is short circuiting.

"Shut up and move," she croaks gruffly, and really, she should never speak again when she's not sure of her voice because the smirk that he replies her with makes her squirm and writhe under him.

"So commanding all of a sudden," he replies, but his mouth is back and thank God. He pulls his fingers back oh so slowly until only the tips graze her entrance and she whimpers quietly, not expecting the abrupt thrust and the speed—the curling of his digits, hitting that perfect spot—and oh, God!—she feels the heat coiling low in her belly, her walls fluttering around him as his tongue laves at her clit until she's spewing words, the only coherent ones his name and the curses that come after it.

She comes, her walls clamping down hard on his fingers as they continue their ministrations, drawing her climax out longer. She bites down on her lower lip, trying to reel in a scream, instead letting out muffled moans as she turns her head to the side and closes her eyes, the feeling too much and not enough—sudden and abrupt, but the pleasure spreading in her body, under her skin, like wildfire.

A few moments later, she comes down from the high, her chest still heaving, and he climbs back on top of her, a shit-eating grin on his face, but she just feels too good to shoot him anything but a soft glare. He raises his brows high on his forehead and really, he's just asking for it. It's an unspoken question, one she's not going to answer with words.

If the smirk growing on her lips is not telling, then her tangling her legs around his still leather-clad ones, the way she runs her fingers down the chain on his neck, the way her other hand grasps at the hem of his shirt, tugging until he's close enough that she can ghost her breath across his lips—well that's telling.

"I'm not gonna tell you," she whispers, and his breath hitches. She grins wider. "I'm gonna show you, pirate."