Killian's prediction wasn't far off. As late summer faded into autumn and the coming winter chill settled over the bay, Emma seemed to spend nearly as much time in Storybrooke as she did Portland. She came and went as she wanted, sometimes staying with Mary Margaret and David, but usually using his home as her base camp. In her wake, there was usually at least one book left spread open across the back of the couch, her clothes lay scattered in the guest room she'd claimed, and strange food-like products inhabited his kitchen.
He pretended to be irritated by the disarray, but the truth was he was fond of the tiny intrusions. Not since Liam had anyone so clearly flouted his sense of order and he was surprised by how welcome that was. And how welcome it was to share space with someone again, even if it was on an unpredictable schedule.
Killian tapped his fingers against the conference table and tried to refocus his thoughts from Emma back to the plans Belle left pinned up for him. He pushed off from where he'd been leaning against the table and moved back towards the renderings, running a finger along the roof line and trying to figure out what about it wasn't working for him. He was no further in making sense of what was off when he was interrupted by the buzz of his phone. He reached back, groping for where he left it on the table, and smiled when he finally managed to grab ahold and swipe it, Emma's name flashing at him.
Please, please, please tell me you are home.
He tapped out a reply – At the office. Why? – and returned to the puzzle before him.
Need an escape, came a few minutes later.
Killian glanced around the room. The sun was setting, bathing it in oranges and reds. He should have left hours ago. He'd only meant to run by to pick up some specs when he found the work Belle left for his review and got caught up.
Where are you?
Leaving Mary Margaret's was her immediate reply. Need therapy in the form of rum. Lots of it.
He laughed. You know where the stash is. Be there as soon as I can.
"I know she means well, but a heads up would have been nice, you know?"
He had arrived home about twenty minutes after her and found her perched cross-legged on one of the living room chairs. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, jeans rolled up to just under her knee and her feet bare. Looking at her, you wouldn't know snow was in the morning forecast. She had been scrolling through her phone with one hand, while the other rolled a half empty glass around.
He'd kicked off his boots and gone to the kitchen to grab a glass for himself as well as the bottle. When he returned, she joined him at the dining table and caught him up on her aborted dinner plans with the Nolans. Two drinks later, Emma was mid-rant about the blind double date Mary Margaret had duped her into.
"Let's say she did tell you. What would that have accomplished besides giving you the opportunity to not turn up? Poor sod."
Emma huffed. "It would serve them right. You can't just spring a date on someone. Especially someone who drove three hours for the privilege."
"And I reiterate, poor sod. He's not even an afterthought in your equation."
She ignored him and took a sip of her drink before continuing, "Whose side are you on anyway? I mean I know it's my fault for complaining about my lack of a sex life, but I can find my own dates when I'm ready, thank you very much."
Killian snorted. "And just how long has it been, Swan?" he asked, hiding a grin behind his tumbler.
Emma sighed and adjusted her ponytail. "I don't even know." She knocked back the remains of her glass and set it in front of him. "I stormed out of August's place, what? Over three months ago now? And those last couple of months, I don't even know if we had sex. Or maybe it was so bad that I've repressed what little we had."
He raised an eyebrow and took a drink.
"So let's say five, maybe six, months with just me and a trusty vibrator."
Killian clicked his tongue as he refilled her glass. "No one since, huh?" Then thinking better of focusing on August, he teased, "Tell me more about this vibrator," as he pushed her glass across the table to her.
She rolled her eyes and his smirk spread. "What about you?" she deferred.
He watched her tap a finger against the rim of her glass as she waited for his response. Opting to stall as he decided on how truthful to be with her, he said, "I'm not sure if we have the type of friendship where I tell you about my collection."
She huffed and kicked at one of his feet. "Not what I meant and you know it."
He laughed and rolled his tongue against the back of his front teeth. "Sadly, my monkhood appears to be outpacing yours." He took a gulp of his rum. "It's been about ten months since a lass has been generous enough to share a bed with me."
Emma narrowed her eyes at him. "Really? Why?"
Killian shrugged. "It's not that the opportunity hasn't presented itself. One offs just seem to have lost their appeal of late." He settled his tumbler back on the table. "There's something to be said for the experience that comes with a built rapport and understanding."
She seemed to consider his words for a moment. "Someone should have sent that memo to August."
"Tosser," he muttered and picked the bottle back up to top off both their glasses. Emma downed the measure he poured and laughed as she pushed her glass back to him.
"He was an idiot, wasn't he?"
He finished his own glass before he nodded and poured them more. "To have a woman as beautiful as you in his bed and not know what to do with her? He's a bloody, bloody fool." He watched her redden at his words, the blush spreading down her neck. He licked his lips as he set the rum bottle back down, pulling his gaze back to her face.
She eyed him and leaned forward, the movement giving him a view down the open line of her button down shirt. "So you're telling me not one of those women you've brought home was willing to help you with a repeat of the experience?" she asked while picking up her glass, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"It's not a question of my performance," he drawled. "I assure you, I make a point of that." She hummed as he shifted his gaze down to his glass, swirling the contents. Shrugging, he continued, "Work has been a bit of a madhouse and romance takes time, which seems to have been in short supply."
"Who said anything about romance?"
Killian laughed. "Emma Swan, are you suggesting I find myself –" He waved his hand as he searched for the right word. "What's the term here?"
"Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies?" she offered and he frowned. "Don't act so scandalized. I've seen you in action on a night out," she shot with a pointed swig of her drink.
He waggled his eyebrows and sipped at his rum.
"We make quite the pair," she sighed.
"That we do, love," he affirmed, tipping his glass to her before taking a drink.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, continuing to drink. Eventually he followed her gaze towards the darkened valley just beyond the windows. There were a smattering of lights in the distance, but no other signs of life.
"You know," she started, tapping her toe against his calf to pull his attention back to her. "We could always…"
He gulped and coughed around the drink he'd tried to swallow as she trailed off. "You aren't suggesting?" he started once he recovered.
She shrugged as he struggled to complete that thought. "Why not? Don't tell me you've never thought about it."
He coughed again and his mind flashed to the night he met her – a Halloween party at David's apartment the year he moved to the States. He'd still been trying to wrap his brain around the idea of an adult fancy dress party when he'd spotted her. He'd seen her a couple times at a café not far from campus, but hadn't known she knew David. She was wearing some get-up that looked to be a cross between a musketeer and a pirate, a sword belted at her waist. While her costume was nowhere near as revealing as the majority of the guests, something about the cinch of her vest and tight cut of her trousers had him itching to know how she might feel pressed up against him. The appeal of Halloween came very much into focus in that moment.
Despite that initial pull, though, the friendship they struck up that night had remained just that. There was a teasing, flirting edge to it at times. And, oh, how he wanted to push sometimes, to see what was beneath it, but timing never seemed to work in their favor.
"Are you saying you have thought about it?" he asked, knowing she'd see it for the obvious dodge it was. He rubbed his own toe against the arch of her bare foot while he waited for her answer.
She rested both her elbows on the table, circling both hands around the glass that sat before her. Pursing her lips, she finally offered him a vague. "Here and there."
Trying to swallow down the rush of thoughts flooding him along with the want to know more, he ran his hand over hers, curving it with hers around her glass. She let go and turned a hand to slide her palm along his, curling her fingers around his wrist.
Knowing he may live to regret it, but worrying that he'd regret it more if he didn't, he asked, "How would it work if we did?"
She ran her other hand along the arm of the wrist she held. "We could figure it out as we go along."
He swallowed and teased his fingers along the underside of her wrist. "True, but it might be best if we have some ground rules."
"Ok," she agreed, and after a few beats, she continued, "Let's start with complete honesty. This only works if we both want it. As soon as it doesn't – for either of us, for any reason – we say so."
"Fair enough." He moved his hand from her wrist up to her face, capturing her chin and running his thumb along the dimple there. "Our friendship remains foremost. Movies, nights out, those remain. This doesn't work for me if I lose that. Anything else is bonus and we are forthright about wanting it. If the other declines, we don't put a strop on about it."
Emma leaned in, hovering her lips inches from his. "Got it. And this stays between us. No Belle, no Robin, or David and Mary Margaret. I don't need grief from any of them."
"No argument from me, love," he whispered, moving his hand up her jaw back to the nape of her neck. He pulled her in and ghosted his lips over hers a couple times, waiting until she followed him before increasing the pressure, pressing his lips to hers. She kissed him back, moving a hand to his neck and carding her fingers through the hair curled over his collar.
They remained like that, leaning across the table, trading soft kisses for a few minutes. When they finally broke apart, Emma stood and pushed back her chair as she declared, "The rest we can figure out later." She made her way down the hall, turning her head to glance at him over her shoulder as she did. "Coming?" she asked as she turned the corner.
By the time he gathered himself up, the hall was empty save the pool of her shirt outside his bedroom. He swallowed and followed in her wake, thumbing at the buttons of his own shirt as he did. He stopped outside the room, taking a breath and wondering if he was being ten sorts of foolish. He steadied himself and entered the room. Resting against the doorway, he watched Emma settle on the edge of his bed. She was wearing a sheer, white bra and her hand was skirting the button of her jeans. Looking up, she crooked a finger at him and he followed helplessly.
He sat next to her, skirting his hand along her belly and leaning in to recapture her lips. She pulled his lower one between hers, nipping as he threaded his other hand into her hair. She shimmied further up the bed and he followed, pressing her down into the mattress as he did. He slid his tongue along her lips and into her mouth, curling around her own. As he did he shifted his hand down, his fingers popping open her jeans and pulling at the zipper. He thumbed at the band of her underwear and hooked a finger underneath to run along the soft skin there.
Emma gave a whimper and he moved from her lips to kiss along her jaw and down her neck. She shifted as he did, lifting her hips and pushing her jeans over her hips, kicking them down and off her legs. He pulled back to finish opening his shirt, rolling it from his shoulders as he did. Once it fell behind him, Killian traced a finger up along the scalloped edge of her bra, following along the top of her breast to then slip under the strap and nudge it off her shoulder. "Again, a bloody idiot," he whispered as he bent down and traced his lips along the same path. "So gorgeous."
"Don't want to talk about him," she breathed. She twisted her hand behind her back and opened the clasp. Killian pushed her bra the rest of the way off, tossing it with the rest of their clothes before running his thumb over her hardening nipple. He watched it tighten further under his touch, and Emma bit down on her lip as it did.
"Like that?" he asked. When she nodded, he circled her areola before pulling the bud between his thumb and index finger. She arched against him and he pulled the other between his teeth, flicking his tongue and coaxing another whimper from her. He grinned as he shifted his mouth to her other breast, continuing to tease and catalog her responses.
When she cried out and ground herself against his thigh after he gave a particularly rough tug of her nipple between his teeth, he laughed in delight. "Oh, Swan," he said, pulling back to smile at her, "we are going to have so much fun together." He moved a hand back to tug at her underwear. "I've barely even touched you and you are ready to come." He kissed down her belly as he pushed them down her legs. Smoothing his hands back up her calves once they were removed, he nosed along the crease at her thigh. "I bet if I just –"
"Shut –"
Not letting either of them complete their thought, Killian flicked his tongue across her clit causing her to arch further and moan. He then pressed his tongue flat, enjoying the pulse beneath it as he did. He continued to lick and nip, her clit swelling against him. He slid his hands up both her thighs, opening her further to him. When his hands reached her apex, he moved his thumbs towards her center and hovering one with a ghost of pressure at her entrance. When she thrust up, he moved his other hand to hold her down, smirking as he curled his tongue harder against her. Feeling her thighs shudder and her clit throb, he gathered it between his teeth and bit lightly as he pushed his thumb inside of her.
Emma gave a shout and threaded her hand in his hair, pulling as she came. He continued to tongue at her as he felt her shift, rolling her hips to push further against him as she did. When she finally stilled, he pulled back to shuck his trousers before coming back to cradle himself between her legs, dragging his cock against her, sliding in the dampness he found there. He pushed up further to reach for the bedside table, scrambling for a condom.
"Fuck," she muttered, running her hand through her hair and pulling it from its now mussed ponytail. He settled back down in front of her and thrusting against her again before rolling the condom down his length.
"Indeed," he replied with a smile. He moved his hands back to her knees. "Sit up, love," he requested with a caress to her thigh. "Want you to tuck your legs up so you are sitting with your knees out and feet under you." She cocked her head but followed his instruction. When she was settled, he wrapped one arm around her waist and kissed along her collarbone. He moved his hand to her stomach and pressed so that she leaned back on her elbows.
"There's a good lass," he said as he gripped his length and watched her lay spread before him, her hair pooling on the sheets behind her. He was once again struck by how beautiful she was, wanted to again tell her but the alcohol coursing through him made the words feel muddled. He hoped, instead, he could make her feel it.
He placed a hand over her mound, his fingers splaying across the soft skin below her navel before dragging them down to ghost over her folds. She whimpered as he reached up to run his hands along the sides of her breasts and down her stomach while he thrust against her once again, teasing himself against her clit with the motion. Groaning as he pulled back, he rested one hand on her thigh and he lined himself up at her entrance before pressing in with a few short, shallow thrusts. When she whispered his name as he finally sank to his base, he closed his eyes to steady himself before pulling back and driving back in with more force.
He gripped her other thigh as he pressed forward to repeat the motion, angling himself forward so his weight dragged against her clit as he did so again. He was rewarded with a string of breathy nonsense as Emma attempted to thrust up to meet him from her confined position. He leaned back and continued with to move, shifting to press his palm over where he moved within her. She tightened around him as he did, pulling him deeper.
"So fucking good, Emma. So tight and wet." He shifted his thumb down to her clit, swiping it across the tight bud as he continued. "So good. Want to feel what it's like to have you come around me. Can you do that for me, love?"
"Oh, fuck, Killian," she breathed.
He brushed his thumb against her in response, working it in tight circles, feeling her tighten around him as he did. "That's it." Picking up the pace of his thrusts to match, she tensed beneath him just as her walls contracted. He closed his eyes and slowed his pace as she cried out, not wanting to come until she finished.
Once she relaxed, he deepened his thrusts, letting her aftershocks pull him with her. He tightened his grip on her thigh and stilled as he felt his own orgasm rip through him. Tilting his head back, he gave a hoarse shout as it did, the intensity of it despite the cloud of rum from their earlier drinking taking him by surprise.
When he withdrew, he shifted to stretch out along the bed and she unfolded her legs and flopped on the pillow next to him.
"God, Killian, that was…" She trailed off with a satisfied sounding sigh.
He grinned and turned to her. "I know." He reached down to pull off the condom, tying it off before leaning in to her to pepper a few kisses along her shoulder. She gave another sigh and he trailed his nose down the same path. "We should try that again, without all the rum," he mumbled into her shoulder.
"I don't know," she drawled. "After that, I'm kinda curious to see what you're like with a bit of tequila in you."
Killina snorted, remembering their trip out to Mary Margaret's family cabin last summer. "You've seen me with tequila."
"I know," she said with a smirk, turning to trail a finger across his stomach. "But this time I might get bonus nakedness."
"I don't know, Swan." His own smile widened. "I seem to recall last time involving some nakedness."
She smacked his arm. "You know what I meant."
He laughed and pushed himself up off the bed to dispose of the condom. When he returned to the room, he let out a breath when he found her wrapped up beneath his sheets. She was curled on her side with her back to him, a pillow and arm beneath her head. He pulled back the coverings and slipped in behind her. Wrapping an arm around her, he tucked her back against him and settled his hand against her stomach. "Thank you, Swan."
"For what?" she whispered.
He shrugged and pulled her tighter to him as he tried to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. "For this. All of it. Know that I don't take it lightly, that there is nothing that's just anything about it." He pressed a kiss to her back, hoping she understood what he meant and to keep her from panicking at his words. "So thanks for being my friend."
"Are you getting sappy on me, Jones?" she teased, snuggling down further against him.
He laughed and kissed her neck, relieved that she didn't pull away. "One of my charms." He kissed her again. "G'night, Emma."
She threaded her fingers between his at her belly. "Night, Killian."
