part four

He twisted his hook within the bark of the tree as his angry words drifted into the silence of the forest. There was a curious smile around the edges of her lips, and he cursed her for all it was worth.

But you got to live. And now I can help you get what you want.

She knew, had known all along. The possibility of her words, of what they promised, of what she had promised before, it all washed over him and mingled with the fading memories of Emma's touch.

At what price?

.

He was desperate, frantically searching for a way out, for the will to move his treacherous feet. What little of his sense remained already envisioned himself running off between the darkness of the trees and disappear, out of her sight, out of her mind if only he could.

The rain was pouring down from the sky relentlessly, in streams so cold and dark that they threatened to swallow him like the sea. Through all his layers of clothes he could feel the chilling cold, seeping down into his very bones until numbness spread across his body like a veil. One he could not hold back, one he could not fight.

Much like the way his eyes were glued to her, unable to move away, to stray even but a little from what he drank in. Long hair plastered to her face as the raindrops ran down her cheeks like a tidal wave of tears, soft lips turning into a faint blue, trembling, eyes wide open as long lashes caught drops of rain like diamonds. All the life seemed to had dried up in her, cold taking its place.

She stood still but for the trembling, arms crossed over her chest, fingers digging deeply into her arms, covered only by a thin gown, midnight blue, turning her into one with the forest that surrounded them.

He was trapped between thinking her careless and admiring her bravery. To sneak away from her guards and slip into the menacing darkness of the forest, all with the faint hope that he would wait for her between the tress. The days without her had lit a fire of fury inside his empty chest, and he wondered how he had gone months without looking upon her face, without being close enough to simply reach out and touch her soft skin, feel her body shiver beneath his touch, listen to the hitch of her breath and the even thrumming of her heart.

That she had lied to safe him had lit a light inside himself, just as it had killed what little hope he had had left for her.

What are you going to tell them when you return? Underneath the heavy downpour of rain, Killian could barely make out his own words, thinking them nothing but a hushed whisper in her ears. Yet, she responded, her eyes lightening up as he finally spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen over them the moment she had stumbled out from between the trees, right in front of him. Soaked to the bone, shivering, lost, and so very foolish.

It seemed that, with each time they met, his resolve seemed to crumble, while her determination grew, like a black cloud swallowing up everything else, multiplying it, killing it, restoring it. He found no words, could only stare as she began to walk closer towards him. Barely a glimpse of light penetrated the canopy of the trees, yet he could make out the dip of her collarbone and the expanse of her neck, the rise and fall of her chest and the quiet, muffled sound her feet made against the muddy ground.

Who says I will return? She whispered the words, the calm expression on her face telling him more than a hundred books would ever be able to, told him how sure she was of herself and whatever it was that she held in her heart for him. A flame that now seemed to dance behind her green eyes, setting them on fire – setting him on fire.

She halted her slow, yet deliberate steps right in front of him, her flowing gown brushing against the brisk leather of his long coat. There was nothing but air between them, her face so close to his, the warmth that radiating off her despite the bone trembling chill, soaking into his pores. I do. He fought a losing battle to keep his hand down, fingers dancing uselessly against his side. We both know you will. She was becoming dangerous, and he found himself less capable of fighting her with each beat his heart did not make.

The implications of his words were heavier than the almost black clouds that send such masses of rain down onto the ground. He spoke out what they truly both knew, that this was impossible, that, even if he found a way to retrieve his heart, he would have to pay for his crimes. That even if he was being trialed mercifully, he would never see the light of day again. That even even if he did, he was nothing more than a very old pirate. Nothing she felt, nothing she ignited in him, nothing he could wish to feel for her would change that she was the heiress to her parents throne, a princess. He had not always been a pirate, yet even back than, centuries ago, they would never have had a future together.

Perhaps it was all too clear in his eyes, for the strength and determination in hers began to slowly fade away, her small hand coming up to cup his cheek, so tender against the roughness of his stubble, warming him, once more shooting that bright spark of hope through him. But even then, he had to admit, that the light was getting dimmer, and the hope less and less convincing.

He had not thought it possible, but Emma took another, one last, step forward, her lips now touching his, not kissing, merely brushing like the wing of a butterfly. Just for a moment, can we pretend that I won't?

The tremble in her voice resembled that of her every limb, and it was his undoing, arms suddenly filled with life as they wrapped themselves around her, as his lips came crashing against hers. He swallowed her surprised gasp, melted as it faded into a soft sigh. His hand grabbed the slick fabric of her gown in his fist, the hook he knew he should have thrown into the undergrowth digging into the side of her hip, pulling her closer.

Her hand grabbed his neck, fingernails digging so deep she almost tore the skin, but it would not have mattered. All that was on his mind now was the warmth of her body pressed against his, to hold her in his arms and if even for a brief moment, allow himself to imagine that he could hold her whenever he wanted, that it would be his privilege to look upon her for the rest of his days. A part of him, perhaps the hollow and lifeless one, ached for his heart to be crushed right now. To let Emma become the last person he ever looked upon, to die as she kissed him back. The mere thought was cruel, and he buried it deep down.

As her tongue slipped past his lips to meet hers, he knew she had felt him tense, wondered if she had heard his twisted thought. Her touch proofed to provide a cure, the warmth of her tongue dueling with his, and he heard an echo of his old self, that of a young man with so many dreams and ideals. Good form. Good form, indeed.

A groan escaped him, resonating deep in his chest as Emma wrapped herself even tighter around him, the swell of her breasts pressed against his chest, and there was no fighting it anymore. The hook dug deeper into her hip, a moan escaping her louder than before, echoing in his ears, and he pressed harder still, until he was sure he was hurting her. Instead, she crawled closer and closer, under his skin, her hand slipping from his neck towards his chest. Tortuously slow, fingers slipping beneath the unbuttoned fabric, pressing between his own skin and her breasts.

He had felt it before, the warmth that flowed through the empty cavity of his chest, the illusion of a heart beat, the illusion of tenderness. She was aware, he was sure. If she filled him with light, perhaps he did not fill her with as much darkness as he had feared.

They never parted longer than it took for them to breathe in a shuddering breath, lips fueled together as if the fire that filled them up had melted them into one.

The hook slipped from her hip into the dip at the small of her back the moment she pushed her hips forward, softness and warmth grinding against him, the slip of his handless arm an instinct, needing to pull her closer, to feel the white heat once more that had shot up his spine. His groan mingled with her moan, and he turned his head to the side with all the strength he could muster in order to break their kiss.

For a short moment, there was nothing. Neither of them breathed, nor did they move and inch. Then Killian's eyes fluttered open slowly, looking down at Emma, face flushed, lips swollen, her own gaze meeting his.

You don't get to push me away now.

There was no more resistance in him when her words ebbed into silence, everything crumbled into dust. He pressed the hook into the small of her back with more force now, biting back another groan, marveling as her bottom lip was sucked between her teeth and her eyes fluttered shut. His hand trailed up the side of her body and across the tender expanse of her neck, until finally, he was able to twist the strands of her hair between his fingers as he leaned down to bury his head into her shoulder.

She sighed in his arms as his lips began to trail from her shoulder up towards her ear, nipping, trailing his tongue carefully, soaking up every small whimper. Her hands now both pushed against his chest, and he felt his skin setting aflame at the touch. Finger slipped beneath his vest once more, desperate apparently to feel his skin beneath hers.

Never once did he falter, keeping his own hips steady as she began to grind hers against them, the heat that burned him up almost too much to handle.

As his teeth began to close around the soft lobe of her ear, Emma shivering in his arms, his hand began to drop down towards her upper arm, holding it gently for a moment, perhaps to steady himself, he could not tell anymore. Everything was clouded, and he felt dizzy, as if the ground was being shaken beneath him. All that was steady was her, in his arms, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his vest.

His hand cupped the swell of her breast just as her soft palm slipped beneath his vest to rest upon his stomach. The sound that escaped the both of them echoed grotesquely between them, breathing ragged, and beneath it all, he could hear her murmuring his name.

Lightly, he squeezed, cursing under his breath for the gown that separated them, her hand on his stomach slowly moving lower. His eyes had closed, lips still trembling just barely above the skin where her neck met her shoulder, his mind focused on the softness of her palm and the dull ache inside of him that began to spread with each inch she moved, closer, always closer, yet never close enough.

Emma. Her name escaped him as a husky whisper, his voice lost somewhere along the way, at the bottom of the sea, and he barely found the strength to move his hand, to let it slip beneath the silky hemline of her gown, to feel the warmth of her skin as she pushed herself closer against him with a raspy moan.

Her own lips had found his neck, trailing a line of kisses there, urgent, almost as demanding as her earlier ones had been. More and more, she pushed herself into his touch, her hand dangerously close to the waist of his trousers, fingertips toying there, feeling him quiver beneath her touch.

All at once, their breathing stopped altogether. Far off, they could both hear footsteps along the thick undergrowth, twigs breaking. Voices called, still too far to make out what they were saying. There was no need to.

She had run off, had disappeared into the forest to find him, and they were looking for her everywhere. What they had feared before, what it truly was that their future held for them, it now came shattering upon them like glass.

Killian pried his hand off her, began to push her away, when her hand clawed at his neck and pulled him down to press her lips against his once more. She allowed him no moment to breathe, held on to him too fiercely for him to let her go without hurting her, and so he responded just as eagerly, grabbed her waist with his good hand and spun her around, drank in her moan as her back hit the nearest tree.

The voices remained at a safe distance, and Emma's lips against his became more and more urgent, her tongue battling as if her life depended on it, as if he was holding back the air she so bitterly needed to survive. And perhaps, he wondered as her hand slipped into his trousers, he was doing just that. Killing her slowly. Perhaps that was why he was still alive, because he had not failed in his assignment at all, was still fulfilling his dark purpose. One slow touch and branding kiss after the other.

He wanted to push away from her and disappear now before it was all to late, to trust in the still far away voices to collect her and take her back to safety. This was his failure, he knew as he did nothing to stop her fingers from roughly pulling at the strings of his trousers. He had failed to protect her from him, to protect himself from his weakness, from his desire to be whole again.

Vaguely, he continued to pay attention to the steps approaching them. With each breath, his willpower began to fade, and everything turned into a blur so vivid that it dragged him under, like a spell.

Somehow, his hand had found a grip on Emma's leg, had hitched it up to his hip, the hook holding it in place as she pushed herself closer. Her hands impatiently fumbled with his trousers, the thick leather resistant, until finally she had pushed it down far enough to free him. He felt as if a rush of air had filled his lungs after he had drowned, and he buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his groan as her hand curled around him.

Her touch was fleeting, light, curious, and he knew he was taking so much from her as his palm followed the smooth skin at the inside of her thigh, her leg trembling as he held her tightly against him, pushed himself further into her touch.

Every sinew of his body ached for her, and he knew there was no turning back now. He could still step away and disappear, but the real harm was done, and as he pushed her further up against the rough bark of the tree, he knew he could not take anymore than she had already lost.

Please. Her coarse plea was the last thing he heard before he drowned out everything, before he felt her legs wrapping around his waist so tightly that he stumbled forward, pushing her even tighter against the tree. All voices and moving far off faded into silence, his fingers trembling as he pushed aside her undergarments. Her hands wrapped around his neck, gentle fingers sifting through his wet hair, and he took a deep, shaky breath, inhaling her, feeling her soft shoulder against his cheek before he pushed into her.

Heat engulfed him, spread through his veins like a blaze of fire, and not even his lips pressing against Emma's shoulder could mute the groan that ripped through his chest. She tensed in his arms, her fingers digging into his shoulders painfully. Everything was on fire, his breath shaking so violently he could barely find control over it.

Slowly, he looked up, everything swimming in front of his eyes until he looked at her, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips, a single tear dripping from her chin down to where her chest was pressed against his, where she filled his heartless chest with warmth and tenderness.

They simply looked at each other for a long moment, as if they were in a silent agreement over the destruction they had set in motion, and the utter beauty of it all. Killian whispered her name, his lips seeking out hers to gently kiss her, softer, so much softer than before. She sighed against his lips when he began to move, the realization slowly creeping up on him that they would not be alone for much longer, that the voices were getting clearer.

With each slow thrust, the grip of Emma's fingers on his shoulders began to soften, and eventually, her lips moved pliantly beneath his own, a dance they had mastered now, soft and full of need, never enough but always so close.

Her sighs turned into moans as he began to move faster, more heat shooting through his body, coiling at the base of his spine, and he felt the echo of his beating heart in hist chest, Emma's own beating furiously through her chest. He knew they would never get this chance again, that only this once he would be able to hold her, trail kisses from her red lips to her flushed neck, feel her hands clawing at his back as her breathing turned shallow.

It fueled him, even more than the venom-like burn in his veins, the thought that this moment was all they would ever get. He thrust into her faster still, her legs squeezing him almost too tightly, and he stopped caring for breath to suck at the skin beneath her ear, his name on her lips like a prayer. His legs began to burn, his arm pickling from holding her up against him, his lungs threatening to burst from the lack of air that flowed into them, everything too overwhelming, too much.

Emma's fingers dug into his shoulders once more, a loud moan escaping her lips that stopped abruptly as she went rigid in his arms, and Killian felt as if he was being pulled into a different world, everything fading into blurry colors as he thrust into her one more time.

Her name fell from his lips silently, merely a release of a long held breath. Emma shivered in his arms as he kissed the the skin beneath her ear that had turned red beneath his ministration, and he allowed his eyes to fall closed for a brief moment. In that short space of time, when he drank in her breathing as it slowed down, felt her hands trail along the base of his skull and her lips whispering against his cheek, he could picture it all. All this should have been, and all it never would be.

A loud crack pulled them both out of their trance, the voices all of a sudden much too close. Killian took a careful step back, holding her steady, aching for the warmth of her body as soon as they parted. Emma, however, would not move her hand, resting it against his neck to pull him down against her lips once more. She did not kiss him, merely hovered there, breathing him in.

I will find a way. Killian whispered the words without realizing that he had made a decision. Everything he felt was to be seen in Emma's smile, in the tears that once more began to form in her eyes. He wiped away the first that trailed down her flushed cheek, realizing only now that the rain had stopped.

So much did he long to kiss her again. So much it tore him apart, yet the voices grew louder, the noise of disturbed undergrowth increasing, and he stepped back, Emma's hand dropping.

Promise me.

He walked backwards, away from the voices, watched as Emma smoothed out her gown and ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the curls he had disturbed.

It was a bloody battle he fought with himself. One he should have known from the start he would lose. And lose it he did, the second the words left his lips, before he quickly disappeared into the shadow of the trees.

I promise.