Bed, stay in bed
The feeling of your skin locked in my head

-/-

There are more inconspicuous places to meet than the little alcove backstage to the left at the conclusion of his show – definitely better hiding spots than the flimsy black curtain that has seen better days – but she can't help it. Not when he's got a light sheen of sweat and his hair is a mess and he's practically vibrating with post-concert adrenaline.

Not when he's forcing noises from the back of her throat with his teeth against her neck and his hands slowly inching up the hem of her skirt.

"Killian," he nips sharply at her pulse point, palms pressed flat against the back of her thighs and pulling abruptly, balancing her carefully on top of a speaker and spreading her knees to make way for his hips nestled against hers. She bites back a moan before deciding it's a useless fight, her hand clenching in the damp material of his t-shirt as she arches her back. "We can't do this here."

He ignores her (pretty half-assed, if she's being honest) plea and drags his mouth along her jaw instead, his hands wandering up against her tights until his fingertips reach the place where the stretchy band of her thigh-highs meets warm skin, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth.

"Are these for me?"

She pushes lightly against his shoulders, ignoring the rough grit in his voice and the way it slips along her skin, sliding off the top of the speaker when he reluctantly steps back. As much as she would love to continue this, they've already been gone ten minutes and she doesn't trust Will alone with the media.

"No, they're for me." She shimmies her skirt back down over the swell of her hips and tries to ignore the thrumming between her thighs. They haven't had more than furious makeouts and heavy petting since that night on the bus and to say she is frustrated would be the biggest fucking understatement of her life. She sighs and thumbs at a bit of lipstick clinging to his bottom lip. He nips at the pad of her thumb. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to pull tights up and down when you're trying to use the bathroom quickly between sets?"

He arches an eyebrow, a smirk already curling the corner of his mouth. "Nevermind." She forcibly turns him out of their hiding spot and into the dimming lights of the stage. "Don't answer that."

-/-

She's never been happier that WIll loves the clubs.

"Emma, you – bloody fucking hell – " He drops his head back against the couch as she grinds down in his lap, the ridge of his erection pressing right where she is aching between her thighs. He looks delicious spread out like this, the long line of his neck just begging to be bitten, his hair a wild mess on the top of his head from her roaming hands. The buzz of liquor from pregaming with the guys is still strong in her blood and she just – she wants.

"We can't do this here." He pants, even as his hips rock up into hers.

"That's my line." She gives in to the urge to sink her teeth into his neck and sucks, laving her tongue against his skin and tasting the salt there.

"Emma." His fingers press down on her hips. "The first time I have you," he punctuates the statement with another brush of his thumbs against her hip bones. "It will not be on this bloody bus."

"Maybe," she brushes her lips against his, rocking in his hold. The lace of her underwear drags against his denim and her breath hitches, fingers clenching in the hair at the nape of his neck. She need more, just a little bit more, and she can finally ease the fire that's burning through her veins like a god damned lightning storm. "Maybe on this bus."

"No, I – " he grunts when she slides her palm under the hem of his shirt, her fingers curling around the hem of his jeans. "I w-want it to be special."

She snorts. "The first time we kissed," she noses at his cheek and presses herself more firmly into his lap, circling his wrist with one of her hands and tugging until she can pin it by his head. "We dry humped in your bunk like a couple of teenagers," she leans back and smiles. "And you're waiting for sex because you want it to be special?"

He shrugs, the tips of his ears turning pink, lips turning down in a frown. He looks sufficiently chastised and a wave of regret washes cold over her shoulders, chasing away her buzz and leaving only a hollow ache in its place.

"I like you, Emma." His eyes dart up to hold hers before finding a place over her shoulder, his throat bobbing in a nervous swallow. "I mean, I really like you. And I thought that, uh – "

She drops her forehead to his, thumbing at the scar on his cheek he got that one summer when the equipment guy was a bit too overzealous with one of the microphone stands. "I like you, too." She sighs, pressing her nose further into his cheek and slumping limp in his lap. This man will be the death of her and yet – "We can wait."

He chuckles, shoulders relaxing beneath her, his lips brushing her ear lobe. "Well, I know the lads will be a while yet. We don't have to wait completely."

A lick of heat curls up her spine, his fingers inching along her thigh. "I thought you said you didn't want to have me on the bus."

"Aye." He swats lightly at her ass with the palm of his hand and she jolts in his arms, balancing on her knees above him as she fights to regain her equilibrium. He's grinning at her like the freaking cat that got the canary, a sly smirk on his lips that's at contrast with the blush staining his cheeks. She's just about to make a comment when he takes advantage of the space between their hips to run his fingertips along the inside of her thigh, brushing perilously close to where she is throbbing and wet.

"When I have you," he turns his hand beneath her skirt, his thumb brushing along the front of her panties in a slow press that has her squirming in his lap. "I want to be able to take my time." He hooks his thumb in the hem of her underwear and tugs, snapping the elastic against her 's suddenly reminded of tipsy summers spent poolside, his towel snapping at her skin as she flicked peanuts off the bamboo bar at the back of his neck.

"I want to hear every noise you make." He leans forward and presses his face between her breasts, gripping her underwear and sliding it down until it's stretched halfway down her thighs, held in place by her spread legs. She'd be embarrassed by her panting if she wasn't so fucking turned on. "I want to watch your face."

He slides his hand back up between her legs and they curse in unison when his palm presses against her, a low whimper under her breath when he taps his fingertips against her clit. She's already more than halfway there, circling her hips down into his grip while his other hand pulls at the hem of her tank top, lips sucking a bruise into the swell of her breast while his fingers gently trace over her.

"Killian – " He pulls his hand back and the noise that crawls out of her throat has him chuckling, blue eyes peering up at her from under thick lashes as he rests his chin against her chest. He watches her for several quiet, still seconds and she almost slips her hand underneath her skirt herself, finishing the job and finally relieving the pressure that's been building since he was above her in that damn tiny cot, pressing into her over and over and –

He skims his thumb over her again, a teasing touch that has her head dropping back, teeth clamping over her bottom lip.

"Easy, Swan." He grins, slow and dirty, his thumb pressing harder in a firm half-circle. "Easy."

"I'm not a horse." She seethes between clenched teeth, her eyes closed and head tipped back to the ceiling. She should have known he would tease her - the jackass. He snickers and pinches lightly at her clit before retreating again.

"Never said you were, darling."

"Then don't talk to me like I'm - oh god." He slips two fingers into her abruptly, his free hand anchoring at the back of her neck and pulling her down to crush his mouth to hers. His tongue slips around hers in a wet, sloppy, panting kiss as his fingers curl up and his palm grinds down and christ - if she had known this is what he felt like - if she had known this is how hot her blood would run with him stringing her higher and higher -

She would never have let him leave the damn cubby.

"That's it, love." He releases her mouth when she mutters his name, her head lolling back as she rides his hand. She feels the scrape of his teeth against her chest as he drags the neckline of her tanktop down, tongue pressing against her aching nipple and holding there, lips sucking and teeth clamping just the slightest bit as he shifts his hand - slips his fingers out of her only to push back in, harder this time, using his free hand to palm his erection in his jeans and then press on her hip, helping her move with him. He growls into her skin when she whimpers out some garbled version of his name and please - the churning heat in her belly building to a dull roar, her legs shaking on either side of his hips, his hand pushing her higher and higher.

"Fucking hell," he whispers and she grabs two fistfuls of his hair, stilling abruptly as the pleasure centers and then explodes out, her body curling in on itself and his as he helps her ride it out, thumb gentling over her swollen and sensitive flesh. When she can finally see colors and shapes again, she realizes he's pressing kisses to her chin and jaw, his hand splayed flat on her thigh beneath her skirt.

"I think I like you like this, Swan," he gently urges her up and helps her pull her underwear back into place, his tongue dancing along his bottom lip as he watches the lace move back up her thighs with damn near studious intent. She wonders if he likes that - if he would like having her with her clothes still half-on. Judging by that night on the bus, she can probably guess it's a firm yes. "All disheveled and flushed." He grins, suddenly a lot less suave motherfucker and much more preening schoolboy. He wiggles his eyebrows. "Satisfied."

She reaches between them for the obvious tent in his jeans, pressing against his erection through the thick denim. His eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones and his jaw goes slack, but he stills her hand with his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles with a shaky sigh.

"Don't think we have time for that, love." His grin is forced and tight, and as if on cue, her phone starts ringing. She rolls her eyes, clamboring off his lap and trying not to teeter too far to the left.

"We have a hotel stay in a week." His eyes flash a shade darker as she balances her phone between shoulder and ear. "Does that timetable work for you?"

He grins again.

-/-

Once, before the band made it big, they were at a bar somewhere in the middle of nowhere Mississippi, the summer heat hot and oppressive as they sipped on dollar beers and got stupid drunk off moonshine that may or may not have been legal. She remembers catching his eye that night over the bar and thinking - thinking that maybe there was something. Something in the heat of his gaze and the way his eyes lingered on her collarbones and then lower still, his tongue prodding against the inside of the cheek as he threw his head back with another shot, eyes half lidded and focused on her until Robin tumbled out of his bar stool, effectively distracting Killian and herself.

He had been looking at her, just for a second, like he wanted her.

It's the same way he's looking at her now.

Except this time she knows.

She's in no mood to play the waiting game tonight, her extra hotel key practically burning a hole in her back pocket. It's been close to a month since she's felt him moving above her, a week since she had fallen apart on his fingers, and her body is practically humming with need. She knows his is too - that intense concentration in his gaze every time her eyes meet his, the way his hand shakes against the small of her back when he helps her off the stage during rehearsals, how he practically throws her against the wall the second she dips back behind the curtain and he can cover her mouth with his.

She takes a healthy gulp of her rum and coke and tells herself to stop trying to burn a hole through his waistcoat with her eyes, losing herself in conversation with Elsa instead of counting down the moments they can go back to the hotel and finally have a moment alone. She brushes past him on her way to the bathroom and slides her extra key into his back pocket, ignoring the color on her cheeks and the way his fingertips trail against the inside of her arm, cold and wet from the condensation on his glass.

(She doesn't see the eye roll Will shoots David, the way David smiles into his glass while Robin snorts.)

She stares at herself in the mirror, rosy cheeks and bright eyes, shaking her head a bit at the stupid smile curling the corners of her lips. The anticipation of finally being with him curls in her chest and presses between her thighs, a thick, slow pulse of promise and want as she considers all the ways he can take her in her hotel room.

Maybe it's time to go.

She slips out the back door of the crowded bar, knowing that he will get the hint and follow as soon as he can. There is a brief flash of insecurity as she slides into the cab and gives the driver instructions, but she dashes it away before it has the chance to fester. For once in her life, she has something good. For once in her life, she has someone who actually cares.

("He's wanted you forever, Emma. You. All of you."

"Are you sure? What if - "

"You threw up on his shoes once and he still looks at you like you hung the goddamned moon. Christ, Emma.")

She's just kicked off her shoes, her purse thrown to a corner of the room, when there's a knock at the door behind her. She frowns at it and then pulls it open with only slight hesitation, not wanting to get roped into some crazy fan trying to track down the band, slip them her phone number or worse.

(She's seen some things.)

But it isn't some rabid woman, decked out in head-to-toe gear. Instead it's Killian, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck as he shifts from foot to foot.

"Did you even wait five minutes?"

She holds the door open wider and he shuffles in. "Ah, no. I couldn't - " His eyes flash as his gaze lingers on her obviously bra-less chest and suddenly all hesitation is gone, his hand reaching for her hip as soon as the door closes behind him, stepping forward until her back is pressed firmly against it, hips pressed to hips. "I couldn't wait."

"Why didn't you use the key I gave you?"

His thumb smoothes along the band of her jeans, dipping lightly beneath the button and toying with the metal clasp. He doesn't move to undo it, just lightly runs the pad of his thumb back and forth over it.

"I didn't want to assume."

"You didn't - " She huffs, tangling her fingers in the charms around his neck and pulling until his mouth crashes into hers. It's quick and dirty and she smiles against his mouth when his hands clench on her hips. "What did you think I meant when I gave you my key?"

"Perhaps you wanted to have a cup of tea," he brushes his nose against hers and slips his thumb further in the waistband of her pants, sucking in a sharp breath when he finds only bare skin. "Swan?"

"Hm?" Her own hands are busy exploring the warm skin at the base of his spine, beneath his barely buttoned flannel.

"Are you not wearing any underwear?"

She drags her teeth along his bottom lip. "Maybe I made some assumptions."

It's like she's suddenly flipped a switch, his fingers working to unbutton her jeans with his free hand while he cups her hotly against his palm. She's already wet, she knows this - she's been turned on since he arrived at the bar and started looking at her like he wanted to devour her, his eyes fixed on her tongue when she swiped at a drop of rum making it's way along the outside of her glass - and when he feels how ready she is for him he makes a desperate noise at the base of his throat, pressing his erection into her thigh.

"I know I said I wanted to take my time," he slips two fingers through her folds and she drops her head back against the door, a dull thump as she spreads her legs further apart. "But I believe I may have spoken too soon."

She tilts her head to the side and watches him as he watches his hand move beneath her pants. "Yeah?"

"Aye." Burning blue eyes blink up at her. "Take off your clothes."

A flash of heat rolls up her spine and over her shoulders as he steps back from her, working on the buttons of his shirt. He arches his eyebrow in silent question when she doesn't immediately move to take off her sweater, too busy instead watching him pull his belt from his jeans, tracing the thick line of hair that disappears beneath them.

She unzips her jeans and kicks them off, pulling her sweater over her head immediately after. It seems the no underwear idea was a good one because that heat from the bar is back ten-fold, his tongue tracing along his bottom lip as he lets his gaze drag down her body and back up again.

He makes sure to hold her eyes with his when he steps forward, jeans still slung low around his hips. "You're beautiful."

She huffs through her nose and reaches for him, trying to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down to her but he resists, hand skimming up and thumb resting just under the curve of her breast. "No, Emma, I mean it." He drops a kiss to her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat. "You have no idea how beautiful you are."

"Okay, I believe you," she slides her hand down his chest and into his pants, wrapping her fingers around him, warm and straining beneath her palm. It seems she wasn't the only one who thought going commando was the way to go. His teeth clamp down on his bottom lip and he falls further into her, forehead against her shoulder. "Can we get to the good part now?"

"I see how it is," she can feel his grin against her collarbone. "You just wish to use me and toss me away, is that it?"

She finishes undoing his pants, letting her nails drag against his skin as she pushes the jeans down his hips. "No," she presses her palm flat against his chest, forcing him back and making sure this time he knows the sincerity in her words. Because she could hear the tremor in his voice that he was desperately trying to hide. A lost girl always recognizes a lost boy. "No, that's not it."

His eyes darken, palm pressing up until he's cupping the soft weight of her breast in his hand. His thumb swipes over her nipple as his tongue wets his lips and the ache between her legs blossoms, her need suddenly fierce and desperate.

"Killian, you said - " She drops her forehead to his, swaying in his hold.

"Aye."

His other hand grips her ass, hauling her against him, his cock trapped between their bodies and she's not sure she's ever wanted anyone as much as she wants him right now.

"I can't do slow, not right now." She breathes against his mouth, sucking lightly on his bottom lip. "We can do it later, or whatever, I just - "

He marches them backwards until the desk is at her knees and he hefts her up, spreading her thighs and slipping between them, angling her head back and kissing the air from her lungs. Two fingers slip into her heat with the same sure slide as that night on the bus and she leans back on her palms, hooking one leg around his hip as he sets about unraveling her.

"We can go slow later," he confirms, thumb joining his fingers and circling roughly at her clit. She clamps down on her bottom lip but he shakes his head, pressing at it with the pad of his thumb. "No, no. None of that." He leans forward and presses a kiss to her neck, dragging his mouth beneath her ear and tugging on her earlobe with his teeth.

"I do believe I said I wanted to hear you."

"Fuck, Killian."

"That's the ticket."

She shatters in an embarrassing short period of time, forcing him back with a strong push against his shoulders when he pays no heed to her whimpering pleas, just continues to move his fingers against her and within her. He stumbles and hits the lamp as she follows him, pushing him back again into the armchair by the bed and climbing onto his lap.

"You know there are rumors about rock stars and trashed hotel rooms."

She smiles into his mouth. "Well, I hear you know someone with media connections." The brush of his chest hair against her bare breasts is nothing short of perfection and she bites back a moan. "I can handle it."

"Are you sure you can - "

His teasing is cut off with a groan when her heat glides along his cock, a muttered curse beneath his breath when she reaches between them and takes him in hand.

"Emma, I can't - "

"Did you bring condoms?"

She lowers herself carefully above him, grinding along him without letting him slip inside. She trusts him implicitly, knows now that he doesn't sleep with the hoard of women who scream and throw their panties on the stage, but still -

"Aye, I just - " He grips her hips and helps her move above him, his eyes desperate and pleading. "Bloody hell, you feel good."

She could come again like this, rubbing against him and watching the way his chest heaves with every unsteady breath. He stares up at her with a clench of his jaw and then he's moving, sliding his hands around to cup her ass and lifting the both of them up, practically throwing her on the bed before striding over to his jeans.

He tears the condom packet with his teeth and slips it on before hooking her ankle, tugging her down the bedspread and tapping lightly at her side.

"Turn over, lass." She does as she's told, flipping on to her stomach, her feet falling to the carpet outside of his. He presses lightly between her shoulder blades until her elbows rest on the mattress and exhales a shaky sigh into her neck. "The bus doesn't allow much room for me to take you like this," he whispers into her neck, his hand tapping lightly at the inside of her thigh until she spreads her legs further. She groans when she feels him pressing against her. "That first night, I thought about bending you over that table in the kitchen - fuck."

She presses back against him until he slips inside her, reaching back and gripping the back of his leg and pulling until he's fully settled. His breath puffs hot against her neck and he rolls his hips, an experimental press against her that has her biting the inside of her cheek and fisting her hand in the stark white comforter.

He feels amazing.

"Emma," he mutters and then he begins to move, shallow thrusts that are already building her up again. His hand wedges beneath her hips and his fingers press at where they're joined, the heat building to a dull roar, her skin already sensitive from one orgasm, it seems he's intent to draw out another.

His hips begin to move with more intent as her moans grow in frequency - thick, heavy strokes that push her further in the bed. His skin slaps against hers with every rough push, the hair on his thighs ticking the smooth skin of hers.

It's frantic and needy and desperate and everything she has been craving since she crawled into his bunk and pretended she didn't know what she was doing.

"Killian."

"Are you close, love?"

His voice is strained as his hips push harder still, his fingers sloppy against her clit. She practically sobs, teetering right on the edge.

He curses and pulls out, flipping her over again. She practically claws at him as she shifts her way up the bed, dragging her with him, spreading her legs wide and hooking her foot behind his knee as he pushes back into her with a delicious groan.

"It seems a waste - " he pants with a smile, her mouth busy on the underside of his jaw. "To not fully use the bed."

"I thought that was what later - god - " he's found a spot within her that makes pinpricks of heat dance along her skin, settling between her thighs and in the tips of her breasts. His grin is devious as she arches her back and he hitches her hips up, pressing into the spot over and over. "I thought that was what later is for."

"I also wanted to see your face when you come." he supplies with a pinch to her nipple, a rough twist between thumb and forefinger that has him picking up the speed of his hips, her leg sliding higher against his side. A bead of sweat drops from his nose to between her breasts, a look of furious concentration on his face as she scrambles for purchase against him, trying to hold on because -

God, it's good.

She comes with a near-silent gasp against his neck when his teeth press into her collarbone, her body locking down around him as he continues to chase his pleasure. She's not even aware of the way he grinds out her name and presses his fingers into her hip as he ruts against her, too focused instead on the hazy pleasure rocking through her bones.

He collapses against her, fingers tangled in her hair.

She drags her hand up and down his bare back, stretching her legs out.

"You know," he nuzzles further into her neck, fingernails scratching at her scalp. She practically purrs before she catches herself. "We don't have to be back on the bus for a couple days."

He hums in consideration, not moving from his place splayed above her. She grins.

"We could try out the shower."

"I like the way you think, Swan."

"And now, when we do go back on the bus - "

He balances on his elbows, a sleepy and sated smile tugging at his lips. "Aye," his sigh is long-suffering and she rolls her eyes. "I suppose I can now have you on the bus."

She smirks. "Good."