Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but my muse was giving me a devil of a time with this chapter. I think I started and re-wrote this chapter three different times. I'm still not sure I'm entirely happy with what I came up with, but at least it's finished and I'm mostly satisfied. I hope you all enjoy it.
She was getting married today.
Emma looked down at herself, in her white sheath wedding dress, trimmed in silk and lace. The style was simple and more important, something that looked like her.
Her mother stood behind her, putting the final touches on her hair. She leaned down to meet Emma's gaze in the mirror. "You look beautiful, Emma."
"Thank you," Emma murmured, "for everything, Mom."
Mary Margaret's eyes filled with tears. "Don't you make me cry, Emma Swan," she warned.
"Only if you promise the same for me," Emma replied, turning to pull her mother into a hug. She pulled away when she heard her bedroom door open and saw Grace walk in.
"Mom, you look like a princess," she said in awe.
"As do you," Emma replied, holding her arm out to Grace. She quickly crossed the room to Emma, hugging her tightly. After a moment, Emma pushed her lightly back to get a look at her. "Gracie, aren't you the little princess yourself?"
Grace twirled in her red bridesmaid's dress. Mary Margaret gave her an approving look, and commented, "Grace, you look much like the princess you're going to be someday."
"I'm going to be a princess?" she gasped, looking up at Mary Margaret and Emma.
"Well, your dad is marrying Emma, who's a princess," Mary Margaret explained, giving Grace a smile. "So that makes both you and Henry royalty, too."
Grace's mouth dropped open in shock. Emma just laughed at her reaction. "Never thought about that, did you Gracie?"
"No," she whispered. "So my Papa's going to be a prince, too?"
Emma threw back her head and laughed in delight. "Oh, I can't wait to call him that. Jefferson's going to love the idea of being a prince," she said sarcastically, knowing his usual thoughts on royalty in general.
"Well, to be fair," Mary Margaret said, tipping her head in contemplation. "No one here in Storybrooke is really a prince or princess, I suppose. But if we ever go back to the Enchanted Forest…"
"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," Emma interrupted, not wanting to get her mother on the subject of returning to the Enchanted Forest. She and Jefferson had discussed the possibility of returning, but Emma wasn't overly keen on the idea herself. She was pretty sure she would miss the modern conveniences too much to live like her parents or Jefferson had.
Luckily, Mary Margaret picked up on her desire to change the subject. "Are you ready for today?"
"More than ready," Emma admitted. "I would have never thought when I came to Storybrooke I would find what I did with Jefferson."
"Mom, is what you have with my Papa true love?" Grace asked innocently.
Emma shot a look at Mary Margaret, not quite sure how to react. She'd actually discussed this very topic with her mother shortly after moving in with Jefferson, and she hadn't known how to respond then, but looking at Grace's expectant expression, she knew she had to say something.
Taking Grace's hand in her own, she gazed into her nearly step daughter's eyes. "Grace, I love your father with all my heart and soul. Is what we have true love? I sincerely hope so; however I have no plans for either of us to be cursed to find out for sure. All I know is that your father makes me feel whole, and I never want to be without him, you, or Henry ever again. Does that answer your question, Grace?"
"Yes," she smiled, throwing her arms around Emma. "I love you too."
"Grace, it's almost time to get started," Mary Margaret interrupted, placing a hand on Grace's shoulder. "Why don't you go down stairs and we'll be down in a minute?"
"Okay," Grace replied, pulling away from Emma. She walked to the door, then turned to face them again. "Mary Margaret, can I call you Grams like Henry does now?"
Mary Margaret rushed over and hugged Grace tightly, "Sweetheart, you can call me anything you want. As of today, you are as much of my and David's grandchild as Henry is."
"Thanks, Grandmama," she said shyly, and quickly left the room.
Mary Margaret placed a hand over her heart. "She is the sweetest girl, Emma."
"I know," Emma replied with a smile. Holding out her short veil, she asked, "Can you help me?"
"Of course," Mary Margaret replied, walking forward and taking the veil, and began pinning it into place. "Emma, what you said about your feelings for Jefferson…"
"Yes?" Emma asked, looking up at her mother in the reflection of the mirror. "What about it?"
"The way you described your feelings for Jefferson," her mother began, placing her hands on her shoulder. "It sounded the same way I feel for your father."
Emma smiled, standing up to hug her mother. A knock came from the door, and David's voice called out. "Emma, it's time. Are you ready?"
"Yes, Dad," she replied, grabbing her bouquet of red and white roses. "I am."
Her parents escorted her downstairs to the entrance of the family room, where the ceremony was taking place. The wedding was a small affair, with only close friends and family attending. Her parents stood on either side of her, waiting to enter the room. Grace, as her only attendant, walked in before her. Emma followed with her parents beside her, as her family and friends looked on. The only people she saw however was Henry, Jefferson, and Grace, standing at the front of the room, waiting for the moment that they would all be officially be declared a family.
Jefferson looked over at his wife. His wife. That simple phrase brought forth such satisfaction and pride in him. He saw Emma kick off the high heels she had worn for the day, and then cross over to the bed where he was sitting and throw herself onto it, wedding gown and all.
"Is is bad I'm really glad this is all over with?" she asked, turning her head to look up at him.
"Not at all," he replied with smile, leaning down to kiss her lips lightly. "Though I'm happy I can now call you Mrs. Emma Lewis now."
Emma sat up slightly on her elbows, and gave him a smirk. "I think I'll enjoy hearing you call me Mrs. Lewis."
"Is that right, Mrs. Lewis?" he smiled, leaning down to kiss her again. Their mouths moved against each other softly as they explored each other's mouths. "You need some help removing that dress of yours?"
Emma got off the bed, turning so her back was towards Jefferson. Looking over her shoulders, she said, "Help me, please?"
Jefferson stood up behind her, and kissed the back of her neck while he toyed with the clasp at the top her gown. "I think this might take some time, princess."
"Don't take too long, prince," she smirked up at him, laughing at his grimace at her use of his new unofficial title. "Hey, if I'm a princess, then when you married me you became a prince, too. So suck it up, buddy."
"How about we promise to never call each other those titles again if we can help it?" he begged, starting to undo her dress. He sucked in a breath when he saw the lingerie she was wearing under her dress. "This is nice," he commented.
"I'm glad you liked it," Emma sighed, enjoying the feeling of him tracing his fingers over the edges of her strapless bra. "I ordered it with you in mind."
"Were there any other items like this in that order?" he asked, crouching down to trail his mouth down her spine.
"Maybe," she replied coyly. "If you get me out of this dress, you can see the rest of my surprise for you."
He made quick work of her dress, and soon it was pooled at her feet. Emma carefully stepped out of the dress, picking it up and draping it over the chair in the corner. Jefferson stood watching Emma, admiring how she looked in her white lace lingerie, including a pair of stockings held up by suspenders. "I must compliment you on your choice of lingerie again."
"I'm glad you like," she smirked, and reached up to pull the pins out of her hair, letting it tumble down her shoulders. Jefferson just watched in awe. Again he could barely believe this incredible woman was his wife. After all he had done in his past, he had somehow won this glorious woman.
She walked over to him, placing a hand on his chest and began to untie the cravat at his neck. She leaned in and kissed the skin she exposed. Jefferson pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "God, I love you."
She looked up at him with an impish grin. "And I love you, too." She started unbuttoning his tuxedo shirt swiftly and pushing it off. "Now, husband, you are to over dressed compared to me. I think it's time I evened the score."
"I like the sound of that," he groaned, enjoying the feeling of her fingertips trailing over the contours of his chest. He let out a moan when she leaned forward, placing a kiss on the center of his chest.
She looked up at him, and simply said with a devious grin, "Mine," and dropped to her knees, making quick work of his pants and boxers. Taking him in hand, she brought her mouth to his manhood, kissing the tip lightly. Giving him a sly grin, she murmured, "I'm going to enjoy this, husband," and took him into her mouth.
Jefferson's legs nearly collapsed from beneath him. He moaned when she pulled away to push him backward onto the bed. "Move to lie on the center of the bed, Jefferson," she said in a commanding tone, and he quickly moved to obey her. "That's a good husband," she praised, and took him into her mouth once again.
After a while, Jefferson placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. "Emma, as much as I deeply enjoy what you were just doing, it's all going to be over soon if you don't stop," he panted, partially sitting up on the bed.
Emma raised her eyebrows with a smirk, and replied saucily, "Well, we can't have that. Help me undress?" As she reached back and unhooked her bra, dropping it off the side of the bed.
"You are going to be the death of me some day, Emma," Jefferson confessed, reaching forward with eager fingers to unhook the first stocking. Getting a very intriguing idea, he demanded, "It's your turn to lay back, wife."
Emma, raising an eyebrow at his demand, did as he asked, reclining herself back on the pillows in the center of the bed. With a smirk, he began to roll the first stocking down her leg, trailing behind with his lips, caressing her bared legs. Throwing the liberated stocking over his shoulder, he placed a kiss on the arch of her foot, and repeated the process on the other leg, causing Emma to moan in pleasure. Looking up at her, he smirked, "You haven't seen anything, yet."
Kissing his way back up her leg, he paused when he reached her lace covered center. "These are very nice, wife, but I'm afraid they need to go," he said, as he quickly rid her of panties. "That's much better," he murmured, as he gazed down at her naked form. "What to do, what to do?"
"Oh, get on with it," Emma huffed, reaching up to pull him down to her.
"As the wife commands," he sighed, allowing himself to settle into the cradle of her thighs. Leaning forward, he brought his lips to hers. He teased her lips with his tongue, sliding insider her mouth as she opened to accept him. His tongue slid along hers in as sensual rhythm, causing her to moan in pleasure and push her hips up towards his in encouragement.
"Please, Jefferson," she moaned, throwing her head back as he trailed his lips down her throat towards her breasts. Taking a nipple between his lips, he teased and tormented her, rubbing himself against where they both wanted him to be. Emma tugged at his hair to get his attention. He looked up, and chuckled at the desperation in her face. She smiled wickedly at him, then raised one leg up high and linked it around his waist, then repeated with the other. Taking the hint, he reached down to line himself up with her opening and slid inside.
"Finally," she sighed, as he began to move. She pushed up against him in counterpoint to his thrusts, not content to take a passive role in their love making.
He kissed her again, moaning his pleasure into her mouth. "I love you." He moved faster within her, changing the angle of his movement slightly, and smiled against her lips as he heard her groan loudly.
"Love you," she panted against his lips, pushing up against him. "More, Jeff…I need more, please."
Nodding, he snaked one hand down her side, trailing over her breast until he reached her center. With his fingers, he began rubbing. Emma tightened around him, and he quickened his pace. Emma cried out with pleasure as her climax hit her, and Jefferson followed a few moments later.
He collapsed onto to her body, panting heavily, leaning his head against her chest. Emma threaded her hands into his hair, pulling him up to kiss her again. He obliged, kissing her softly before moving away from her and lying beside her on the bed. He propped himself up to gaze down at his wife.
She blinked slowly up at him, and smiled. "That was fantastic."
"Give me a few moments, and we'll attempt round two," he smirked, kissing her.
She rolled her eyes. "Such a show off."
"But you love me," he teased, leaning down to kiss her.
"I do," she replied. "So very much." She turned to face him, reaching a hand out to stroke his cheek. "Jefferson, I can't tell you how happy I am right now."
He pulled her to him, pressing his lips into her hair. "Emma," he whispered, "you, Grace, and Henry are my everything now. If something happened to any of you, I'm not sure I'd survive this time."
She pulled away to look into his eyes. "We won't let it. We're getting our happy ending, together."
"I like the sound of that," he replied with a watery smile. They finally had their chance at happiness, and they were reaching out together to take it.