So I'm a little late but I wanted to write a little ficlet about how I imagined 4x04 ending if this show was on HBO / throw in some angst. Not really smut, but definitely M rated. Ehhh, this may suck. apologies. xo

There are times when Killian Jones can only assume what is going through Emma Swan's head. Other times he knows exactly what is tampering with her spirit, and engulfing her mind. It is now, as she is standing in his doorway, ( lips pursued and hair a mess, wearing nothing more than an over-sized sweater and knickers) that he is wondering what the hell is she thinking?

Their date ended promptly three hours ago. A heated kiss, a breathless goodbye, and a gentle snap of a closing door sealed the night's end, or so he thought. It's now well past a sane hour to be roaming Storybrooke in such attire, and it is well past the hour in which most normal people are awake.

( But he knows Emma Swan is far from normal, and all the abnormal chaos that seems to surround her and this bloody town should lead him believe that normalcy is not the norm here.)

"Swan?" He asks, as he musses his hair. It's not that he hadn't hoped she would wind up at his door, it's just that he has a certain deal to uphold in mere hours.

"Hey," she replies cheekily, as she slips past him quietly. He closes the door and peers at her with curiosity as she makes herself at home. "I was thinking we could pick up where we left off." She hums, and she is all long legs and blonde hair and gods he has never seen a woman look so ravishing in all his three hundred years of living.

"Is that so?" She doesn't answer. Instead she decides to slip off her sweater, leaving her in nothing but a black corset to cover her bosom and those bloody knickers that had him sweating from the moment his door first creaked open to reveal such a sight. .

"Oh." He stutters out, as he attempts to avoid looking at her, at all of her. He feels his left hand burn and he is suddenly reminded of why he had not insinuated this. "Emma I-" She cuts him off by standing abruptly. She moves quickly to his hesitant form and presses her lips relentlessly onto his.

He has no choice to oblige, he follows her lead and opens his mouth against her lips, gasping at her ferocity and he needs this. Their tongues battle for dominance of the others, he feels her hands slip under his shirt, her cold fingers working their magic along his torso, igniting a fire in their wake."Emma." He asserts again, breathless and wanting this, but knowing that he can't. But she is stubborn, and he can see her eyes have glazed over with the same lust he saw in Neverland. (What she wants, she gets.) He ignores the thoughts in the back of his head screaming at him to stop her, but he can't help but bring his hands to cup her breasts. This could be the only time in his life when he can feel her, really feel her. She moans, her eyes fluttering shut as he gently squeezes her, teasing her nipples with gently flicks. She guides him back to the bed, and he pushes her down.

He watches her come undone as his hands move down to her thighs. He kisses her stomach and lightly brushes his fingers over her entrance. He watches her back arch and her breath hitch, (he has never seen something so beautiful in his life).

Like a tempered sea, Emma Swan is a woman who needs a skilled sailor to navigate her waters. He easily finds what pleases her most (the tickle of his stubble on her inner thigh, his teeth biting at her neck leaving small marks that scream 'she's mine', the bite in his tone that makes her gasp as he whispers demands of what he is going to do to her…Yes Emma Swan is a woman who likes to be dominated, and he is a man who loves being in control.)

Their mouths find each other again. She is mewling below him, eager, willing, and ready. He is distracted, though, and he never wanted his first time with Emma to be like this. She deserves his full attention, she deserves to have every inch of her body satisfied.

He can't help but watch his left hand grip her shoulder a little too tightly, or the way it ripped her corset a little too violently, or the way it grabbed at her throat as he made his way inside of her.

(She didn't seem to notice.)
(He hated the looming thoughts of how he used to devour woman after woman.)
(Emma didn't deserve to be devoured, she deserved to be savored.)
(But he wanted her.)
(So he takes her. Inch by inch he consumes her.
(He is overwhelmed with regret, but is overpowered by the passion that can only be Captain Hook making his way back to the surface….)

He wakes before she does. He watches her for a stolen moment; her golden hair is a knotted mess, her neck is covered in an array of love bites, her chest is rising slowly, and her face looks serene accompanied by the morning light that is shining through the curtains. He feels guilty, terribly guilty for what he has done.

He slips from the bed as quietly as he can, but even in her slumber she is aware of his absence. She groans softly, eyebrows knitting together at the sudden lack of warmth. He hushes her, gently bringing his hand to smooth away the wrinkle in her brow. She signs in contentment, and returns to her slumber. He dresses slowly, back aching, stomach fluttering, hand still burning. He scribbles a note, warning her of why he has departed.

And he leaves.

(He still isn't quite sure who made love to Emma that night, Hook or Killian, and that is what scares him the most.)

He finishes his business with Gold, and he hadn't imagined he could feel worse than he already did but he does. His chest feels hallow, and his hook feels heavier than it ever has. He can hear that damned crocodile in his head clearer than Emma's enticing moans:

"I helped you remember the darkness that lies underneath."

How could he have been so bloody stupid? The hand had to have been be cursed, didn't it? How else could he explain punching that git outside the library, or feeling the waves of pleasure he got from when he had stabbed Gold with his hook? How else could it explain the driving desire he had to savage Emma's body without appreciating her every curve?

"I helped you remember the darkness underneath."

He could have sworn his darkness disappeared from his life (for good) the moment Emma, his sun, began shining on him. But he should have known that it never left, it would always be inside of him. He is too much of a fool to have not realized this all along.

***
He sees her at Granny's hunched over a cup of cocoa, blowing on it gently. He approaches her, ready to reveal the blackness that is slowly consuming his soul. He is more than willing to tell her about Gold, and their deal, and he wants to be enough for her but he never will be.
But she deserves the truth. At least he can giver her that.

She spots him quickly, her green eyes send sparks up his spine and god he can't believe he has ruined this. He had spent so long waiting for her to be ready for him that he never imagined actually getting to this point. He had spent so long fighting for her, and being there for her, and living for her he has forgotten how damaged and worthless he is.

He watches her gather her things in a rush, and he can feel the walls surrounding her again. He can feel the barrier between them so vividly he swears it's really there.

"Swan-" He begins, but she cuts him off.

"You left." She whispers through gritted teeth as she slips on her red jacket .

"I can explain." He begs, reaching for her with his right hand. He watches her eyes find his hook.

"Not now." She says meekly, as she pushes past him.

"Swan." He affirms, grabbing her arm before she has a chance to take another step.

"What did you have to do that was so important that you couldn't wake me? We're supposed to be a team Killian."

"Let me explain, love. Please?" He catches her cheek in a chaste kiss, as he leads her out the door. He leads her to the alleyway, away from the bustle of the town where it is quiet and he feels like he can breathe. He leans against the wall and closes his eyes.

The words pour from him faster than he intends. He is a blubbering mess of tears and apologies and secrets that were never meant to be secrets at all quickly reveal themselves.

When he is done, he can't help but feel like a cannonball has been released from his stomach. His hook, the damned thing he had grown to hate, feels at home on his arm. He hears her sigh, a long heaving sigh.

"It's okay." Is all she utters to him before she is nuzzling herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, anchoring him to her. He presses his face to her hair, reveling in her scent and he finally feels like Killian again.

"I'm mad at you." She whispers against his heart. "But it'll be okay, we'll be okay. I promise."

He squeezes her tighter against his chest, wondering how he got so lucky. The impending thoughts of darkness that plagued his mind all evening and day suddenly vanish. Everyday with Emma is an opportunity for him to be a better man. She understands that it's not always going to be easy for him to separate himself from the man he once was. She acknowledges his darkness and she wants to be there for him to always illuminate the path to goodness..

(He should have known all along that Emma Swan has been, and will forever be the light that guides him home. )