"Okay, let's talk"

She shouldn't feel nervous (she does), not after all that's transpired tonight. She's naked, and he's naked, and she's just chugged half a water bottle and can still taste the remnants of him on her tongue. Talking should be the easy part, but it never has been, not for her. Why should this conversation be any different?

A light squeeze of her fingers draws her focus from her freakout back to his face, and his smile. That fucking smile, it's her kryptonite and she's beginning to wonder if he knows it considering how often she finds it directed squarely on her (he does). To give herself another moment to corral her thoughts, and because she's suddenly in a position to be able to, she untangles her hand from his so she can trace his ridiculous dimple with the pad of her thumb. Doing so just widens his smile further, so yeah, not really helping matters but her thumb keeps pressing anyway (he so knows).

"Okay, so what should we talk about?"

She's smiling now, unable to hold back her grin as she does her best to goad a huff of exasperation from his lips. She's not counting, (2 seconds) but she knows it will happen.

"Swan…"

"Fine, okay. So, considering...well…this" Pausing, she darts her eyes down his body and back up. "I think it's fairly obvious that maybe we might be more than friends."

"I'd say that is a fair assumption."

"Fair assumption? That's all you have to say?"

With their heads so close together on her pillow she can't miss the subtle widening of his pupils that precedes the sudden touch of his fingers on her belly. The slow tracing of his fingertips in a path up and between her breast ends with his palm pressing upon the now erratic beat of her heart, leaving her skin tingling in his wake.

"I have much to say, love, but I'd like to hear your thoughts first if you feel able to speak them."

She's so affected by his touch, by the weight of his wrist resting against her breast that her words get stuck a bit in her throat as she attempts to speak (she could really use the other half of that bottle of water right about now).

"My feelings are a confusing mess right now, but you obviously know that already. I can admit one thing, though. I don't want to run away from you anymore. That's progress, right?"

"Aye, it makes taking the next step a bit easier."

"Are we stepping?"

The butterflies hovering in her belly take flight as his foot pushes between hers and he shuffles his body closer, his hand now moving from between them to skim lightly along the outside of her ribs. She watches the movement of his mouth as he licks his lips, waiting, wondering what his next move will be.

"I'd like to if I have a willing partner. Do I, Emma?"

(In sex, hell yes) She knows he means more than that. Dating...more than a one time thing. God, she really wants to try. She's come this far, so she decides to meet him halfway. Sliding her hand from his cheek and around to the back of his neck, she moves her head closer until the tips of their noses meet in an Eskimo kiss.

"I might need a little help along the way."

There's a raw honesty behind her words that she didn't really expect to let out, but when his eyes meet hers and she sees the complete understanding reflecting back she simply forgets to care.

"We'll figure it out together."

Hoping he will take the hint by the pressure she puts on the back of his neck, she gives him the push he needs to close the inch or so of distance still remaining between their lips. What begins as a soft sealing of an agreement type of kiss quickly turns more insistent, urgent and purposeful (she's pretty sure she's responsible for that, but it's not like he's not a willing participant). No longer tentative, his palm takes possession of her breast and she leans into his touch, needing more, wanting everything all at once (she can have it all, right?). Huffing in surprise as she rolls him to his back, she watches his mouth fall even further open as she moves to straddle him and brace her hands on either side of his head. She's taken down a perp this way before with a much less pleasurable outcome.

It's a dirty move, but she can't stop herself from grinding down against the taut muscles of his stomach, distracted by the need for friction and completely forgetting her previous intention behind this new position. By some stroke of luck (or because the bastard just somehow knows instinctively what she likes) his hands are back where she needs them on her breasts, kneading and pinching relentlessly at her nipples with his fingertips. Her eyes lock with his as she continues to rock her hips, each slide inching her lower until she's brushing against his cock hardening against his belly.

His eyes close on a guttural moan at the contact and fuck, if she thought he was sexy before tonight, seeing him in the throes of passion has him veering into some other wholly unfair category altogether (seriously, he's fucking beautiful). She's not sure if it's the need for attention to the ball of tension between her thighs or simply a desire to see more of that look on his face, but in order to have both she lifts her hips and presses down until she's sitting directly atop the underside of his length. His hand flexes almost painfully against her breasts as their joined heat collides, but his fingers soon relax as he seems to come back to himself and his eyes slowly open in search of her gaze. When she's sure she has his attention, she moves her hands from beside his head to rest upon his chest and finally begins to move.

It's all about the chase, now. And chase she does (if this was a race, she'd be in the lead, smoking the competition). She lets his strong hands move to her waist to guide her as she slides her clit up and down along the length of him, her fingernails leaving tiny crescent marks in the skin beneath the coarse hair of his chest.

"You're a bloody vision like this Emma...so beautiful…"

"God, I'm so close, we should...I want...oh fuck…"

She's pretty sure she has a condom somewhere in her nightstand that would come in really handy right about now. If she could just tell her hips to stop grinding against him long enough to let her form a coherent sentence…(not gonna happen)

Thankfully, he chooses that moment to take control. In a move she'll have to remember to ask him to show her one day, she suddenly finds herself on her back with his knees perched on either side of her thighs and his larger hands pressing hers into the mattress by her head.

"What is it you want, love?"

The ridiculous quirk of his eyebrow and her lack of breath combine in a gulping laugh, but somehow she manages to get out the words "you" and "condom" punctuated with a pointed look to her left. When she thinks back on this moment, she's not sure if she'll remember the finer details of who touched who where and for how long, but she'll definitely remember this. Him, rummaging with fumbling fingers around her lotions and manicure tools, perched on the edge of her bed naked as a jaybird. The look of triumph and the smile he sends over his shoulder followed by the sloppy kiss he plants on her lips as he settles back between her thighs will be forever imprinted in her memory bank.

And yeah, she hopes she won't forget what comes next.

His tongue swipes sensually inside her mouth as he slowly fills her inch by inch, his hips moving in slow circles as her body stretches, but she can't wait and begins to move restlessly beneath him in search for more. She was so close before, and even with the slight delay in the action, it only takes a few deep thrusts and the toe-curling feeling of his body moving in sync with hers to find herself once again teetering on that pleasure tipped edge. She can see the muscles straining in his neck from his efforts to hold back, the sheen of sweat building at his temples and in the hollow of his throat. It's sweet of him, but this isn't all about her. Untangling her arms from around his back, she reaches up and wraps one hand around his neck while using her free hand to push the dark hair hanging from his forehead out of his eyes. Eyes wild and dark with passion search hers, but she waits until he's lifted his hips and his cock is almost completely free of her body to make her request.

"Together, Killian...now…"

His lips drop hot against hers as he drags his hips down hard, the coarse hair of his stomach tickling hers as she wraps her legs around his waist, making sure his thrusts stay shallow as they grow increasingly erratic. There's something about his raw, utter loss of control that is catalyst of the most unguarded (un-fucking-believable) and borderline overwhelming orgasm of her life. The force of it must take him with her, as his head is now buried against her neck and she can hear him groaning her name repeatedly against the hollow of her ear. They're a sweaty mess, but with their bodies still pulsing intimately, she follows willingly when his head lifts and his lips cover hers to lead her in slow, yet deliciously thorough kiss.

He eventually stops kissing her (unfortunately) but it's only so he can relieve her of his weight and shuffle from her bed to dispose of the condom, returning from the bathroom with a warm washcloth. She's so used to one night stands that she has to push back tears at the simple intimacy of being gently washed by a lover, the reverence he's making no attempt to hide as he climbs back beneath the covers causing her to flush with affection as he pulls her close to his side.

She's in real trouble of falling crazy in love with him, she can already feel it. Okay, so maybe it's still the sex talking (it's not), but whatever it is she can't remember ever feeling this content, this safe to just feel what she feels and trust that it's going to be okay. He drifts to sleep first and she tries to follow, but can't seem to stop her fingers from swirling through the slightly curly hair on his chest or the train of thoughts steamrolling through her brain. But, then she feels his hand gently cover hers and his lips press into the crown of her head and a quiet whisper telling her to "sleep, love" and well, she listens.

He doesn't need to see a clock to know it's unbearably early, too early to leave this bed and the woman beside him. Blast nature and it's urgent call. Moving as few muscles as possible, he manages to barely jostle her as he extricates his arm from her waist and slides backwards from where he'd been sleeping curled around her back. If he didn't have such an urgent need, he'd allow himself a moment to revel in the fact that he's just awoken in Emma's bed, with Emma in his arms, after a night of making love to Emma Swan (Emma Swan, seriously, that all happened). But, he really has to take a piss.

The creak of her bedroom door could wake the dead, but by some miracle she doesn't stir (heavy sleeper, check). Thankful for the early morning light to help him find his way down the hallway and into the bathroom, he closes the door behind him and does his best not to fall back asleep standing over the toilet. Business finally done, he goes to wash his hands and groans as he finds the soap bottle empty (he distinctly remembers telling Emma she was running low just last week). He wishes he wasn't such a clean freak, but he is, and he simply can't go back and put his hands back on her skin until they've been properly washed. Stepping back into the hallway, he shivers as the cool air of her apartment really begins to settle into his bare skin, making him wish for a pair of sweatpants or perhaps a robe.

He almost laughs aloud as he pictures the horror he would see on Emma's face if he were even to suggest he leave such a thing here, not this early in this relationship, no bloody way. When he looks back on this moment, he'll blame being lost in that train of thought for what's about to occur. Turning the corner into the kitchen, he freezes as he comes face to face (well, a lot more than just his face at the moment) with a very smug looking David Nolan. His best mate is leaning back against the counter with a steaming cup of coffee pressed to his lips and his foot firmly planted on top of Killian's discarded jeans.

"Good morning, Killian. Sleep well?"

The one good thing about the cold air is his manhood has shrunk to a size that he can cover the whole of it with his hands, which he does, with astonishing quickness. Untying his tongue from the knot it has found itself in, however, that's taking a bit more time.

"Relax, Jones. And for the sake of my eyesight, put on some damn clothes."

Suddenly finding his mouth full of denim from David's toss of his pants, he grabs his discarded boxers from inside and pulls them on, thankful to see David's finally turned his back and given him a moment of composure (a very brief one).

"Sorry mate, I wasn't expecting you back…"

"You hurt her, I shoot you. Understood?"

His first instinct is a rebuff, but the sincerity he sees as David turns once again to face him is sobering, and if he's honest, welcome. David obviously cares quite a bit for Emma and well, that's something the two of them definitely have in common.

"I'd let you."

David cracks a tiny smile (that he tries, but fails to hide) and pushes off the counter to take his coffee back to his room. As Killian finally makes his way to the sink to wash his hands, he turns when he hears David speaking to him from the hallway.

"I keep an extra robe in the linen closet."

He doubts David hears his mumbled "thanks", but he says it all the same.

Returning to Emma's room, he sets his (neatly folded) clothes on the chair and closes her door as quietly as the squeaky hinge will allow. Before climbing back in beside her, he rubs his hands together to warm them so as not to wake her when he pulls her close again, as he can't wait to do. When he looks down he sees that she already is awake, her sleepy smile and half open eyes so adorable he can barely stand it. She lifts the covers in silent welcome and he crawls inside, sighing in contentment when she snuggles against him and presses her warmth into his chilled skin. Finding her forehead with his lips, he bestows it with a light kiss before tucking her head beneath his chin.

"So, David knows about us, love."

He waits for her to tense, but she doesn't. Instead, he feels her body begin to shake against him as a laugh bubbles from her throat. By the time she manages to get control of herself, he's half confused and half amused (more amused, she has the cutest bloody laugh he's ever heard). She leans back and cups his cheek, her thumb once again finding his dimple as it had the night before.

"Leave it to you to take the next step all on your own. Perhaps we can tell the rest of our friends together, with our clothes on?"