God this chapter gave me so much trouble! Apparently I can write dirty, banging smut with no problem but giving UST without letting them bang yet is like pulling teeth. But it's here! This is a MASSIVE chapter, btw, almost 12K. A lot needed to happen and, as always, my muse got carried away in certain spots. Huge thank you to always-been-a-pirate for listening to me bitch about my UST writing, walking me through it, and being the Queen of Quote Finding and lending me her extensive knowledge on literature for this chapter. :) You are amazing, my friend.

As always, enjoy, and reviews feed the muse into 12K chapters!

Chapter 6: Lead Us (Not) Into Temptation

"Jesus, Ruby! Slow down or you're going to get us killed!"

Grabbing the handle her father had always termed the 'oh shit handle' above the passenger side window, Emma had to agree with Tink's observation from the back seat.

The three of them were on their way to pick Elsa up from the airport and it would be a miracle if they survived the car ride. Storybrooke was too small to have an international airport, the little strip on the outskirts of town only accepting regional planes so anyone flying in from a major airport had to land in the next big city thirty minutes away. In a bid to keep Elsa from having to rent a car and drive after being on a plane for ten hours, Emma and the girls had offered to pick her up when she had emailed them a few days before with her official arrival date. Taking Emma's bug was out of the question - both because of lack of space for all four of them and the no AC issue - and with Tink's Nissan Leaf in the shop, they had decided to drive Ruby's Mustang.

The only problem with that was Ruby's driving.

Bracing her free hand against the dashboard Emma remembered why she hated being a passenger with Ruby behind the wheel. The woman had no concept of safe driving, weaving in and out of traffic at high rates of speed like she was playing a videogame, her foot firmly on the gas and waiting until the last second to brake. Emma was shocked the seat belts still worked in the Mustang with as much tension as they were put under with the brunette's driving.

"Oh calm down back there, Tink," Ruby laughed, taking a turn so sharply that it would have sent the petite blonde in the backseat sliding if she hadn't of had her seatbelt on. "My driving isn't that bad."

Tink's head appeared between the two seats, strands of hair falling out of the perfect bun she had left the house with. "Emma, a little back up here?" she asked in exasperation.

Emma looked at her brunette best friend. "Your driving scares the shit out of me," she said honestly, causing Ruby to snort.

"Well we all can't drive like Grandma Tink."

"Excuse you!" Tink exclaimed. "I do not drive like a grandmother! I am a safe driver."

Ruby glanced at the blonde in the rearview mirror. "Pretty sure driving thirty-five in a fifty-five constitutes you being a grandma driver."

As her two best friends continued to argue the difference between safe driving and old lady driving Emma looked out the window to the highway around them, her mind drifting to the past week. She had fallen into the roles of part time deputy and secretary seamlessly, her father and Killian working together on her schedule to make sure there was no overlap and that she wasn't stretched too thin. It had been a relatively easy first week at the station. She had been paired with Graham on the days she had worked, the Northern Irishman making the shifts, particularly the overnight one on Wednesday, lively despite the slow crime rate of Storybrooke. Their conversations over coffee and tea had made the time pass and she found herself seeing Graham not as one of her father's long time employees or the older, mysterious man she had once had a crush on, but a genuine friend.

Her first week at the church, on the other hand, had been filled with sexual tension and conflicting emotions.

She still felt guilty for having masturbated to thoughts of him, her cheeks reddening even now as she thought about her momentary lapse in judgement. God, her mother would demand she bathe for the rest of her life in holy water if she somehow found out. She told herself it had been an involuntary reaction to not having sex in over a year along with her erotic and very vivid dreams as of late and had vehemently refused to give in to her body's insistent demand for another release since. She didn't trust herself to masturbate and not think about the good Father and she wasn't going to fall further into that sin, not when a friendship or tentative respect of sorts had started to develop between them - that and the fact he was a priest and her boss.

She may have sworn off all forms of self love but it was impossible to not admire the fine specimen of a man that sat less than ten feet away from her four days a week. He may wear the robes of the Holy office but everything he did dripped of decadent sin. More than once she had become distracted from her work as she sat and watched him play with his ever present red Sharpie, twirling the writing implement he used to mark changes on his upcoming sermon with nimble fingers or subconsciously letting his tongue run along the cap slowly. Emma had instantly imagined that tongue taking the same thorough sweep of her clit as it did the tip of the Sharpie and she had been unable to look him in the eye the rest of the day, her dreams that night filled with the image of his dark head between her thighs as he brought her to completion over and over again. Her third day at the church he had walked into the office wearing those blue basketball shorts and white A-shirt - someone had come for a late confession and he had apparently been in the garden on break when she texted him - and her mouth had practically watered at all the muscle on display and had damn near had to pick her jaw off her desk when he reached for his robes on the back of the door, his low hanging shorts revealing a hint of hip muscle.

She had turned a thousand shades of red when he had turned to find her staring at him but then he had done the oddest thing - instead of ignoring her blatant ogling or smiling shyly, both responses you would expect from a priest, he had smirked. A dirty little smirk with a glint of something in his eye and before she could process what the actual fuck had just happened, he pulled his robes on and left. When she went to the kitchen that night for dinner nothing had been said about the moment in his office and they had carried on with their normal dinner conversation. But she had begun to notice that about the good Father - for the most part he was everything you would expect a priest to be and then there were moments when she would catch a glimpse of the man beneath the white collar, like that day in her parent's living room as they had looked at the pictures atop the fireplace. He seemed to be able to flip the switch without any effort - the pious priest one minute and flirting with her the next - but it was something they never commented on, almost as if it was an unspoken rule between them.

Which was confusing as hell to her because a priest should mostly certainly not be flirting with her under any capacity… right? Although, she was one to talk after her little stunt yesterday…..

"That is the most absurd thing I've ever heard!"

Emma almost snorted her coffee as she took in the priest's affronted face across the kitchen island. They had just finished another amazing dinner he had cooked - baked salmon with a spicy chipotle sauce and asparagus - and were enjoying a cup of coffee and tea respectively when the conversation had turned to how overly sexualized the media was nowadays. She had commented that it had been going on since the dawn of time and at his perplexed look had offered her opinion that if read a certain way, some bible verses could be rather suggestive.

Naturally, the priest had been appalled.

"Absurd or not, Father, it's the truth."

Killian scoffed, taking a long sip of his tea before replying. "Song lyrics and poems, perhaps, but not bible verses."

Emma raised a blonde eyebrow. "Can't say I've ever read a poem that made me weak at the knees."

Sitting his Disney Captain Hook mug down - she still couldn't believe a grown man drank out of something like that - he motioned toward her. "Well alright, name a verse then."

Before Emma could open her mouth to prove her point his cell phone began to ring. Throwing her an apologetic smile he fished the phone out of his pants pocket, answering it with his customary greeting, "This is Father Jones." She watched as he nodded his head a few times, a frown deepening on his face the longer the person talked.

"Oh, I am so sorry to hear that Mrs. Brown. Yes, of course, I'll be right over. Tell them to just pull up in front of the church and I'll be waiting for them."

She set her mug down as he hung up the phone. "Everything okay?"

Killian nodded. "Mrs. Brown's husband had a stroke and they don't expect him to make it through the night. She wants me to administer last rites before he passes."

Emma's eyes widened. "Oh, God. Yes, go. I'll take care of the dishes and lock up if you aren't back by the time I leave."

"Are you sure?" He asked even as he stood, moving to button his dress shirt that he had unbuttoned while they were in the sweltering office earlier that day.

"Of course," she answered, standing herself and grabbing the few dishes left on the kitchen island. "Do you need a ride to the hospital?"

He shook his head. "Mrs. Brown's cousin is already on his way to pick me up."

He had left seconds later and she had went about cleaning their dinner dishes. After loading the dishwasher and making sure the kettle had fresh water in it in case he wanted another cup of tea when he got back, she had made her way back to their office, gingerly sipping at her own topped off coffee as she went. She still had a few more hours before she went home and although she had answered all the emails that were in the church's inbox, she could get some filing done. Passing Killian's desk on the way to her own she glanced down to see his Bible open on his desk, their interrupted conversation from the kitchen coming to mind. She paused, tapping a fingernail on the side of her coffee mug in thought. He had told her to name a suggestive bible verse, and the competitive part of Emma was keen to show the priest just how wrong he was….

Sitting her coffee mug on his desk with a smirk, she had went to work.

Emma was brought out of the memory by Tink shouting at Ruby again to slow down, just in time to see a large, green sign on the other side of the highway that marked the airport.

"Hey, Rubes, we're coming up on the airport exit."

Flicking the blinker on and with a quick glance over her shoulder Ruby crossed three lanes of traffic without once taking her foot off the gas, causing Emma to once again grasp the 'oh shit' handle as Tink cursed colorfully from the backseat. Once they were safely off the exit she threw her brunette best friend a glare that was met with an innocent shrug.

"What? I didn't want to miss the exit."

Emma simply rolled her eyes as Ruby maneuvered them off the main road and into the international side of the airport. With it being the height of summer in the South the airport was packed and they had to circle the parking garage twice before finding a spot. There was a brief argument over payment - "Why do I have to pay an all day parking price when I'm only going to be here twenty minutes to pick someone up?!" "Tink, just pay the fee and take it up with your Congressman later." - and then the three of them were making their way into the arrivals area. They waded through the sea of humanity until they were stood at the very front, each one peering out into the crowd that was piling out of the arrivals corridor.

After ten minutes Tink sighed. "Does anyone see Elsa? Her plane landed twenty minutes ago, she should be out here by now."

Emma was about to say no when a flash of very familiar blonde hair caught her eye. "There she is!" she exclaimed excitedly. The crowd seemed to part at the sound of her voice to reveal the fourth member of their little gang, her purple suitcase rolling behind her. Although technically the youngest of the four of them, having been born in late December, Elsa Arrendale had always been the mother figure of their group. She was the voice of reason when an idea that was going to end badly was suggested, like the time a sixteen-year-old Emma and Ruby thought it would be a wonderful idea to ride Grumpy's golf cart down main street at two in the morning while slightly drunk, and had always been far more mature than her age. She was slightly taller than the rest of them, her hair a lighter blonde than Emma's and currently in its trademark braid over her shoulder. She was stunning even without a stitch of makeup on and looked effortless in a pair of black leggings, black flip flops, and an oversized light blue t-shirt that hung off her left shoulder.

"Elsa!" all three of them shouted at once, waving their arms to get their friend's attention. The second her eyes landed on them she smiled wildly, running the rest of the short distance and flinging her arms around them as they shared a group hug.

"Oh my God, I have missed you guys!" Elsa laughed as she pulled away from them, her blue eyes moving from Ruby to Tink and finally landing on Emma. She smiled softly. "It's good to have you back home, Emma… despite the circumstance that brought you back."

Emma returned her smile, giving the other blonde's hand a quick squeeze. "It's good to be home."

Elsa's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Is it? I thought you'd already be planning an escape route back to the city or somewhere new, like Atlanta."

"Now why would she want to do that when she works part time for a stud muffin?" Ruby smirked, moving to take Elsa's suitcase from her. The light blonde smiled her thanks before turning her attention back to Emma as the group made their way out of the airport.

"A stud muffin, hmm?" Elsa questioned in that motherly tone she had adapted over the years when it came to them. Emma rolled her eyes.

"He's a priest, Elsa."

"He may not be able to touch but that doesn't mean you can't look, Emma," Tink pointed out with a mischief wink to Ruby.

Emma sighed. "Do you see what I've had to put up with while you were gone?"

Elsa laughed as they entered the parking garage. "Well, Father Jones is a good looking man…."

Emma looked at her best-friend in shock, ignoring the momentary jolt of jealousy. "Elsa!"

"What?" the light blonde asked innocently with a shrug of her shoulder. "I have eyes, Emma, and he is handsome."

Before Emma could reply - not that she knew what to say to the usually straight laced Elsa admitting a priest was hot - they arrived at Ruby's car and Elsa stopped dead in her tracks.

"Ruby, that's your car."

Ruby snorted as she unlocked her prized possession. "Glad to see that the time in Norway hasn't fried your brain. Yes, it's my car."

"No," Elsa said, shaking her head, "That's your car."

Opening the driver side door Ruby raised a dark eyebrow. "Maybe I spoke too soon about the frying your brain thing."

Elsa looked from Tink to Emma in shock. "You decided to come pick me up in Ruby's car which she never lets anyone else drive but herself. Ruby is driving?"

Emma shared a sheepish look with Tink. "Tink's car is in the shop and it was either Ruby's well air-conditioned car or my very cramped bug with no AC."

Elsa sighed heavily. "We're going to die."

Breathing raggedly through the humid predawn air on his Saturday morning run, Killian came to a conclusion - he had bloody well lost his mind.

It had been almost a week since Emma had come to work for him and he had never been more painfully aware of the fact that he hadn't had a sexual release in almost eight years. She had been a bloody temptress all week long, never knowing the little things she did that filled his mind with lustful thoughts. He had stared at her ass for a full minute on Monday as she bent over to rifle through the filing cabinet, unable to move his eyes from the vision that was her ass in those skin tight jeans, especially once he realised there was no panty line. Tuesday afternoon she accidentally poured half a bottle of water on herself while sat at her desk, the combination of wet fabric and the cold air from her desk fan quickly causing a pebbled nipple to show through her shirt. He had never been more thankful for the long robes of his office as he hurriedly left the office with a raging erection.

Friday, however, had almost been his undoing. He had been elbow deep in finishing up this week's sermon, the only sound in the small office that of their desk fans working over time when a litany of curses had erupted from her direction. The priest part of him had been shocked at the language but the former sailor in him was impressed with her word choices, some even he hadn't known existed. He watched her face pale upon realising she had just cussed inside a church and through her stuttered apology had ascertained that the scheduling program on the computer had crashed for the third time that week and wouldn't open.

Waving away her continued apologies about her language - "I was a sailor once, love." - he had made his way over to her desk to try to sort the problem out. There had been no lustful intentions when he went over to help her but confronted with the unobstructed view down her tank top as he leaned over her shoulder to fix the computer program, he had found his mind taking a decidedly sharp turn to lustful musings. It had been a blistering hot day, by far the hottest of the summer yet, and Emma had shed her normal t-shirt hours before for the cooler tank top beneath it. The tops of her breasts had been on full display to him, the tank top cut low enough and the angle he stood at giving him a glimpse of a lone freckle on her right breast, and he had immediately thought about how glorious they would look bouncing above him as she rode him hard and fast. That erection was almost unbearable and hadn't been helped by Emma stretching as he worked on the program, the delightful sound she had made going straight to his cock.

Shaking his head and willing his body not to respond to the memory - running with an erection was not something he enjoyed - he made the final turn around the lake.

What had he been thinking hiring Emma? He knew she was a temptation for him, that the mere sight of her tested his resolve to hold true to his vows and yet he had done it without hesitation. He wanted to believe he had done it as a way to show his commitment to God and the priesthood, that he could remain faithful to his vows even with temptation staring him in the face twenty-four hours a week but deep down a voice that sounded suspiciously like his older brother whispered that it was a lie. Killian hadn't hired her to prove his loyalty to the church, he had done it so he could be around her more. He wanted to be trapped in that small office with her for hours on end, to be so close to her that he could smell her flower scented body wash and to have a reason to text her randomly throughout the day, even if it was under the guise of work.

He wanted to be tempted by her and he hated himself for it.

His speed increased at the thought, the hard beat of ACDC's You Shook Me All Night Long pounding in his ears. He was a priest. He shouldn't want temptation, had preached about it and the path of sin it inevitably lead to for years… but he wanted it. He even liked it and Emma Nolan was nothing but pure temptation to him - from the way her jeans hugged that pert little ass to the sinful sounds she made when she turned on her desk fan to fight the humid office space, he enjoyed her oblivious teasing. It sent a thrill through him, made him feel alive for the first time since Liam had died, pushing him to be reckless and openly flirt with her. It was harmless, remarks and actions that if anyone else witnessed they wouldn't think twice about it but he knew he was playing with fire. But he would never act on it. As much as he liked flirting with her and the feelings she was beginning to stir inside him, his vows were more important. He had chosen this life as his penance for his part in Liam's death and he wouldn't do anything to jeopardise that.

Liam's memory deserved more than him screwing up yet another facet of his life.

Coming to a stop at the edge of the park he gulped in air. It wasn't just a physical attraction though, he genuinely liked her as a person as well. Their late dinner conversations were some of the most mentally stimulating conversations he had had in years, Emma's time spent living outside Storybrooke gave her a more well rounded view of the world than her fellow townsmen.

When not seeking him out for spiritual advice he had found the residents of Storybrooke tended to converse about small town matters - the new tax Regina was planning on implementing in the Spring or the upcoming high school football season - and were staunchly rooted in their single minded views on the more delicate topics. But not Emma. She talked about global events and their far reaching effects and he had learned quickly that Emma Nolan wasn't one to easily back down from a lively debate when it came to hot topics.

She was kind, sharp witted, and although she didn't believe in God or the church's teachings, she held an immense respect for those who did.

He also wasn't deaf. He had heard the whispering about her past, more pricelessly the reason behind her return. It wasn't often but the occasional tidbit made its way to him and he knew she had moved back to Storybrooke after ending a long term relationship - the exact details behind her breakup were unknown, and Killian had learned long ago not to put stock in the reasons local gossipers gave. She had yet to mention it to him in all their talks and he wasn't one to pry, more than patient for her to become comfortable enough to confide in him. It wasn't just the reason for her recent breakup he wanted to help her with though. He had spotted it from the moment they met but being around her the past week had only solidified for him his initial gut feeling - someone, and not her recent ex, had hurt her badly. She hid the pain well but he could see it lurking within the green depths of her eyes, a sadness that spoke of heartbreak and betrayal, a pain he knew all too well. Memories of dark hair and a bewitching smile flashed through his mind, of secret rendezvous and whispered words of affection melting into anger and betrayal.

He shook his head as he completed his post run stretching. That was the past, another life time, and he was a different man now.

Slowly making his way back to the darkened church, Killian sighed. At the end of the day it didn't matter how much he liked the temptation Emma presented him with or how much he liked her as a person, they could never be more than friends. To want anything more was a sin, one he was not willing to commit. He ignored the voice, once again sounding suspiciously like his brother, that whispered that was a lie too as he made his way through the side door of the church.

He was halfway to his room when the music blasting through his earphones ceased. Frowning in confusion he removed the iPhone from the pocket of his shorts only to find that it was dead. Odd, he thought, he always plugged it in at night before going to bed… Except last night he hadn't. He had gotten a call just as he and Emma finished dinner about a parishioner who had a stroke and wouldn't survive, the man's wife calling to ask him to give last rites before he passed. It had been late by the time he returned to the church, having stayed to comfort the family as the man took his last breaths and to help with the immediate arrangements, and he had went straight to his room and collapsed. His phone charger was still in the office from where he had been charging it the previous day. Sighing deeply he changed direction, heading toward his office to retrieve it.

Flipping the office light on he made his way around his desk, pulling the charger with perhaps a little more force than was necessary from the wall outlet. He refused to admit to himself he was annoyed with himself for letting it die incase Emma texted him - not that she would be up before nine with it being her day off from both jobs. Turning to leave, something on his desk caught his eye. Everything was as he had left it the previous afternoon - laptop closed, the third draft of tomorrow's sermon marked all over with red Sharpie next to it under two paper weights, his opened Bible off to the side with a pink sticky note on a page…

Killian paused. He never put sticky notes in his Bible, always preferring to highlight passages in a specific color or just the bookmark he had been using since he joined the seminary. Why would there be a sticky note on it now? Moving closer, he could see handwriting that was most definitely not his on the brightly pink colored paper.

Read this like you are trying to seduce someone and tell me it's not suggestive in the slightest! - E

He blinked in confusion for a second before realising what the note was referring too. Their conversation about suggestive wording from the night before came flooding back, and he smiled as he reread her words. Gently removing the sticky note he could see that she had highlighted a passage in yellow, one he had become familiar with since she had walked through his door:

"No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it." 1 Corinthians 10:13

Well, she wasn't wrong. If said, as she had suggested, like you were trying to seduce someone with the correct emphasis on certain words like temptation, escape, and endure the verse about God giving you the means to overcome temptation did become highly suggestive. He found it intriguing that she had went out of her way after the abrupt end to their little argument to prove her point to him, and that she had done so in a way as to catch him off guard. Well two could play that game.

She had mentioned she had never read a poem that could make her weak at the knees and if there was one thing Killian Jones loved, it was a challenge.

They in fact did not die on the way home, although it wasn't from lack of trying on Ruby's part. After arriving back in Storybrooke the girls had a late lunch at Granny's, catching up over grilled cheese sandwiches and onion rings, their laughter loud as Elsa regaled them with stories about staying on her elderly grandparents' farm and being chased by a goat named Olaf almost every day as she fed the animals. Granny kept them supplied with sweet tea as they talked and once again refused to accept any payment from the girls, leading Emma to wonder just how much revenue the Widow Lucas had lost over the years with feeding the four of them.

Somewhere between the second plate of onion rings and sixth glass of sweet tea they had decided a proper girls night was in order to celebrate Elsa's return and they had parted ways shortly before three with plans to meet at Tink's house later. Elsa had headed off to Ingrid's ice cream shop to see how things had fared in her absence while Tink begrudgingly accepted a ride from Ruby to pick up her car from the mechanic on the edge of town. Having met Ruby and Tink that morning in town, Emma simply walked the short distance from Granny's to the police station where she had left her bug, thankful she had opted for a simple white sundress that morning as the afternoon sun beat down on her bare shoulders.

The humidity wrapped around her like a blanket and by the time she reached her car fifteen minutes later she was pouring sweat, the end of her ponytail damp from where it had brushed her sweat soaked back. She cursed as she sat down in her car - even with the windows rolled down the inside still felt like an oven - and just as she started the bug she heard her cell phone go off, the familiar chime telling her it was a church email. Reaching into the passenger seat where she had tossed it she quickly unlocked her iPhone and opened up the email, groaning as she read the email from a band mom informing her the bake sale date for next month needed to be changed to another day as it conflicted with the start of marching band practice. Exiting her email she tried to pull up the church's schedule app on her phone, huffing in annoyance when it failed to load after three tries.

Of fucking course. She couldn't remember if the new date they wanted was free and the last thing she wanted to do was tell them they could have it and something else already be planned. Sitting her phone back in the passenger seat she grumbled as she buckled her seat belt - she'd just have to pop by the church and look at the actual schedule book before emailing the band mom back. They had agreed to meet at Tink's house by 4:30 so she had plenty of time to run to the church before swinging back home to grab a couple changes of clothes and heading to Tink's place.

She called her father on her way to the church to let him know she made it back home safely and about her plans for the evening, laughing when he commented that Ruby must be losing her touch in her old age if she didn't kill them with her reckless driving. She briefly talked to her mother, promising not to drink too heavily and to give Elsa her regards before hanging up as she pulled into the church's semi-deserted parking lot. Dropping her cell phone and keys into the little pocket on the side of her sundress she exited the car and quickly made her way inside the equally humid church. A few parishioners were sitting in the pews, undoubtedly awaiting their turn for confession and she silently made her way to the back of the church. Opening the office door she took one step in before stopping dead in her tracks, her eyes widening even as her jaw dropped.

There stood Killian in all his smoldering hot glory beside his desk, dressed in a pair of black dress pants and nothing else.

Holy shit.

The small glimpse she had seen the other day was nothing compared to the full and unobstructed view before her now. He was fit, muscular in all the right places with firm abs and broad shoulders, the kind a girl could hold on to while he sent her over the edge. The dark chest hair she had only seen fleetingly was on full display, covering his chest and tapering down his firm stomach to disappear into the waistband of his pants that were slung low on his hips, revealing the jut of his hipbone. She knew she should look away. He was a priest after all, a man who had sworn his life and body to the church but Emma's eyes refused to move - even her most erotic dreams couldn't do the real thing justice.

"Emma?"

Jerking her eyes up from the body that could have been an inspiration for the Greek sculptures of old, she saw piercing blue eyes watching her and she felt her face heat up. As if it wasn't bad enough that she had been staring at a priest's body like she wanted to devour it, but he had caught her doing it. Well if she wasn't going to hell before she certainly was now!

"I-I'm sorry," she quickly stammered, stepping fully into the office and letting the door shut behind her. "I wasn't… expecting you to be in here and- and…."

"And half dressed?" he supplied for her.

"Yeah."

"My apologies, I spilled tea all over my shirt as I was headed to the confessional and I keep a spare in the office." His brows furrowed in thought. "What are you doing here? It's your day off."

"Oh, I- um, got an email about a bake sale date changing and the app wouldn't pull up on my phone so I thought I'd just swing by here real quick and just add it to the book."

"Makes sense. Did Miss Arrendale land safely?"

Emma nodded. "She did. We're going to have a small get-together tonight at Tink's house for her."

"Emma?"

"Yeah?"

"My eyes are up here, lass."

Feeling her cheeks redden even further she yanked her eyes back up to Killian's face. She hadn't even realised her eyes had moved down to his chest and she found it extremely difficult not to let them wander back when all that was right in front of her.

"I am so sorry-"

Killian chuckled, moving to lean against the front of his desk, his arms crossing over his bare chest. "Don't be. The human body is one of God's greatest creations. It's meant to be admired, to be studied…" His tongue swiped along his lower lip as his eyes darkened, a sinful smirk tugging at the corner of of his mouth. "To be explored."

Emma swallowed against the sudden dryness in her mouth. The coil of desire that she had barely been able to restrain all week igniting with a vengeance and she felt her entire body heat up as the priest's eyes flickered down her body, the light sundress suddenly feeling like too much fabric against her heated skin. Somewhere beneath the desire beginning to cloud her mind she wondered why he hadn't put his shirt back on yet.

"Is that so?" she whispered breathlessly, her eyes sliding from Killian's face down to his neck, the desire to sink her teeth into the space where it met his shoulder almost overwhelming her.

"Indeed," he murmured thoughtfully. A beat of silence passed between them, each watching the other and then he was uncrossing his arms, pushing off his desk and walking toward her with a swagger to his stride that she had never seen before. She took a step backwards as he drew nearer, her back coming into contact with the office door, the wood cold against her overheated skin. Four long strides and he was inches in front of her, the heat from his own body hitting her and Emma's breath hitched, her eyes flying up to those midnight blue orbs.

"The female form - a divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot," he recited softly, bringing his hands up to rest on the door either side of her head. "It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction and I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor- all falls aside but myself and it." Emma's heart beat quickened as he shifted forward a fraction of an inch until she could feel his breath ghosting along her lips. "Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs… love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching."

Sweet Jesus. She was certain she had never been turned on more in her entire life than in that moment, her thighs clamping together beneath her sundress even as her chest began to visibly rise and fall with her breathing. His eyes never left hers as he continued to speak and she could have swore she saw a spark of desire amid the darkened blue of his eyes.

"Quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice… Undulating into the willing and yielding day, lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-fleshed day."

"That's not scripture," Emma breathed, the coil in her belly tightening even further. He looked like the snake that had tricked Eve into tasting the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, eyes hooded and dark with desire, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"No, it's not," he murmured huskily, his eyes dropping to her lips. "It's part of a poem by Whitman."

Emma's eyes fell to his lips as she bit her own. They were close enough that all it would take was a small movement forward to kiss him, to finally know if they moved against hers as smoothly as they did in her dreams. She knew he was thinking of kissing her too by the way he wet his lips and the subtle way his right hand wrapped around her ponytail, almost in anticipation of the act. Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt his breath grow nearer, her hand already rising to grasp his hip….

"Father Jones?"

Just like when her mother had interrupted their first almost kiss they sprang apart - well, he did, seeing as the office door was at Emma's back and she couldn't really go anywhere.

"Yes?" he called out, moving to the corner of the office where a his spare dress shirt hung on a coat rack.

"I just wanted to check on you since you weren't in the confessional yet," came the concerned voice of a parishioner from the other side of the door. Feeling her stomach knot at what had almost happened again, Emma quickly moved to her own desk as Killian threw on his clean shirt.

"Yes, I spilled tea on my shirt and I had to change. I'll be out there in a few minutes."

She could hear the retreat of the parishioner but Emma refused to look up from the schedule as Killian moved about the office, probably straightening his clothes and donning his priest robes. Neither said a word to each other, the silence in the small office almost deafening. She saw him pause by the door out of the corner of her eye but she kept her attention down, intently erasing names from the book and she breathed a sigh of relief when he left the office without a word. Guilt, shame, and sexual tension swirled within her and Emma hastily made the final changes to the schedule and then bolted from the office like it was on fire. She skirted the chapel entirely, opting to go out the back kitchen door to avoid even the possibility of Killian not being in the confessional yet.

It wasn't until she had rounded the church and was halfway to her car when his whispered words registered with her, bringing her to a dead stop in the middle of the parking lot. He had recited a poem that not only made her weak at the knees, but had her underwear absolutely drenched - his one-up to her leaving the highlighted passage and sticky note in his Bible.

"Son of a bitch."

Eight hours later Emma was completely and utterly drunk off her ass.

After realising Killian had more than proved her wrong and pushing down her embarrassment for almost kissing a priest again, she had swung by her house to pick up work clothes for tomorrow, said hello to her parents, and promptly drove to Tink's house where she had downed her first glass of wine before five. Ruby and Elsa had arrived shortly afterward and the mini celebration to welcome Elsa home had went into full swing. Her friends had commented on the speed with which she was finishing off her wine but Emma waved the questions off, vaguely commenting on it being an over reactive band mom's fault - the last thing she needed her friends to know was how worked up she was after seeing a priest without his shirt. All she wanted to do was drink and forget about how she had felt with her back pressed against the door and his husky voice in her ear.

And drink she had.

Between the four of them they had obliterated not only Tink's small collection of six bottles but the additional two Elsa had brought from her house, Emma drinking the equivalent of four bottles alone. They had sat around Tink's spacious living room laughing and drinking for hours, eating the pizza that one of them was sane enough to order before the wine had begun to flow to help with the inevitable hangovers that would come in the morning. Elsa vented about Anna's ludicrous wedding plans - "She wants a reindeer there - for a September wedding!" - and at one point Ruby had suggested a drunken game of Scrabble which quickly devolved into who could play the dirtiest word, although they were all too drunk to spell by that point.

They had retired to bed an hour ago, Tink to her own room and the other girls to seperate guest rooms but Emma wasn't anywhere close to being tired. The buzz from the wine had worn off slightly and while still pleasantly drunk, her barely sober mind couldn't let go of the fact that not only had the priest proven her wrong but the way in which he had done it. His method of attack was always going to work - the muscles on display, the husky voice, the intoxicating scent of pure male - hell, he could have been reciting the phonebook to her in that moment and her panties would have still been soaked. The bastard probably timed his shirtless strike for her arrival at the church. It was a low blow is what it was and the competitive side of Emma, the same part of her that started this whole mess by highlighting the Bible verse, flared and demanded retribution.

Father Jones wasn't the only one who had the power of sex at his advantage.

Clumsily reaching for her phone that lay on the nightstand, she snuggled back under the large white comforter of Tink's guest bed. It was a quarter til midnight but she knew Killian would still be up. He had mentioned on more than one occasion that despite the hours he worked he was still a bit of an insomniac, a holdover from his younger days in the Royal Navy and he never went to bed before one in the morning, particularly on a Sunday night. Blinking against even the dim light of her phone she tapped her safari app, a quick search yielding the perfect response in her retribution attack. If she had been even the littlest bit sober she would have known how horrible of an idea this was, but Emma was far from sober. Bringing up her messages, she giggled as she selected Father Jones from among the list of those she had recently texted and began to type.

Pausing on his final edits for tomorrow's sermon Killian leaned back in his desk chair and stretched his shoulders, groaning slightly as muscles that had been hunched over a laptop for the better part of four hours twinged uncomfortably. He had technically finished the sermon that morning but he needed to keep his mind busy after his run-in with Emma that afternoon, knowing if he tried to watch tv or read his current book he would just think obsessively about her.

Not that that wasn't happening anyway.

His eyes flickered to the closed door and he saw her there again, dressed in that demure white sundress with her hair pulled up, eyes wide as she stared at him. He hadn't expected to see her until tomorrow afternoon and had an entire plan for showing her just how wrong she could be when it came to the suggestive written word, but seeing her unable to tear her eyes away from his bare chest had flipped something within him, and before he knew it he was in front of her, boxing her in with his arms as he whispered Whitman's work like he was trying to seduce her.

Which he certainly had not been doing. That would go against every vow he had taken upon entering the priesthood. No, he was simply proving to her that a poem could be taken suggestively, something he would have done even if he hadn't been shirtless and seen the way she stared at him. Keep telling yourself that, little brother. Scoffing at the voice of his older brother in his head, Killian reached for the crystal glass sitting on a coaster next to his laptop and took a long pull of the dark amber liquid. While there was no church law stating priests couldn't drink it was something Killian rarely indulged in, not wanting to make a habit of it and have it affect his priestly duties in any way, never knowing when he would be needed by his parishioners. He had had the bottle of rum sitting in his lower desk drawer since he entered the priesthood, only allowing himself a glass under highly stressful situations.

He refused to admit that he had drunk more since meeting Emma Nolan than he had in his entire eight years in the priesthood.

Before he could finish the rest of the rum his phone beeped, alerting him to an incoming text. Frowning and glancing at the clock on his laptop, he wondered who could possibly be texting him at this time of night. His parishioners would call him if his services were required, Belle was asleep before nine like clockwork every night, and Robin was on vacation with Regina and their adopted son… Unlocking his phone, he pulled up his messages and his eyebrows shot nearly to his hairline at seeing that the text was from Emma.

Emma: You know, this Walt Whitman guy also said 'battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won'... you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?

A grin slowly spread across his face as he read her words. So, the lass had finally realised that had been his response to her little highlighting game. He was amused that she had apparently went on a Whitman quote search and he had to give her points for the quote she had chosen to use. Downing the remainder of his rum, he started to type his response.

Emma was blearily scrolling through her Facebook when the low ding of a text message sounded in the quiet room, and she ignored the giddy rush that shot through her as she hastily opened her messages.

Father Jones: Afraid I wouldn't, lass. I don't lose battles as I proved this afternoon.

Emma snorted - well someone was rather cocky. Time to bring him down a peg or two.

Killian was sitting the half full bottle of rum on his desk when his phone chimed again.

Emma: Oh, did you win something this afternoon?

"Is that how you want to play it?" he murmured to his empty office. The rational part of his brain warned that this was dangerous territory, quickly slipping past the tentative line of flirting they had wordlessly set over the past week. He ignored it as he poured himself another glass.

Father Jones: Come now, love, you and I both know I won that little debate by a long shot.

Emma rolled her eyes.

Emma: Hmmm, no, I don't think you did. Pretty sure it was a draw there, Father.

Killian scoffed, downing the second glass of rum in one go before responding.

Father Jones: I beg to differ. You were a speechless mess beneath me while I simply had a good chuckle over your little attempt. Did anyone tell you it was bad form to highlight in another man's Bible?

"I'd like to be more than a speechless mess beneath you, that's for sure," Emma muttered into the empty guest room.

Emma: It was a hot day! Did anyone tell you that you shouldn't leave your Bible out for random people to prove their point in?

Killian chuckled - he had to admit, he liked her sass. Another glass of rum disappeared as he thought out his response.

Father Jones: Keep telling yourself that, lass. Was that you proving your point?

Emma: Please, if I had used the same nefarious means you did we both know you wouldn't be asking that.

Father Jones: What are these nefarious ways that you speak of?

Emma: Oh don't play coy, Father! You know exactly what you were doing.

Father Jones: And what exactly would you say I was doing?

Emma: Using your provocative powers to make me weak in the knees.

Grinning like a fool as a surge of pride shot through him, his fingers flew over the keypad.

Father Jones: A-ha! So you do admit it made you weak in the knees!

Emma groaned, letting her phone briefly fall to the side. She hadn't meant to admit that, dammit!

Emma: Fine - yes, yes. I concede defeat, you made me weak in the knees… among other things.

A dark eyebrow rose as he read her words, desire and rum swirling through him at the possibilities. Ignoring the glass all together, he took a large gulp of rum straight from the bottle.

Father Jones: Oh? Like what?

Emma bit her lip, briefly contemplating answering truthfully or waving the comment away - answering truthfully won in her drunk state.

Emma: Well, let's just say soaked panties are not the most comfortable thing to drive in.

Killian groaned, his cock twitching at her words.

Father Jones: No, I imagine they are not. It's a situation that can be… handled, though.

Emma: Since when do priests abdicate masturbation?

Father Jones: I wasn't always a priest, remember. ;p It tends to get lonely on a ship out in the middle of the ocean. But you don't have to handle it alone.

Emma closed her eyes as the image of the priest taking matters into his own hands flashed through her mind and she clenched her thighs together to relieve the sudden ache in her clit. The desire and wine in her blood made her bolder, and she typed her response without thought.

Emma: Please, you couldn't handle it.

Feeling the part of him that never backed down from a challenge rise up, Killian fired off his response before taking another drink.

Father Jones: Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it, love.

Emma smirked as she read Killian's response. Thinks he could handle it, huh? Throwing the comforter back with a drunken flourish she stumbled toward the bathroom door, thankful in her inebriated state that all of Tink's guest rooms came with their own private bathroom. Flipping the light switch on she arranged her hair quickly, really too drunk to care about the state it was in and pulled up the camera on her phone. Leaning against the bathroom door frame she snapped a picture of her reflection in the mirror, smirking as she fumbled to turn off the light.

Once safely back in bed with the covers wrapped around her, she hit send.

Killian was bringing the bottle of rum to his lips when his phone dinged again. Taking a long pull, he opened the text conversation with Emma and promptly choked on his rum. It was a picture of her leaning against the doorframe of what he assumed was a bathroom, hooded eyes and an innocent smirk pulling at the corner of her lips, dressed in a yellow tank top with the right strap falling down her arm to reveal an obstructed view of her shoulder and collarbone, the left side of her tank top riding up to reveal the simple white underwear she wore and nothing else. He was absolutely gobsmacked. Even with her blonde locks a riotous mess over her left shoulder she was a vision, reminding him of the sirens of old who would lure sailors to their death with just a smile and outstretched hand. His cock fully hardened as his gaze swept over the image, taking in the curve of her hip that the raised tank top displayed and the fact she most certainly wasn't wearing a bra.

If the rum wasn't sitting warm in his belly and making his head fuzzy Killian would question why she was sending a picture like that to a priest but as those things were happening, the question never entered his mind. Noticing that there was a message attached to the bottom he scrolled down to read her words.

Emma: Sure you could handle this, Father? ;p

"Oh you have no idea, lass," he chuckled, wetting his lips as his fingers hovered over the keypad. Tapping out his reply he sat the phone next to his laptop and leaned back in his chair, hazy eyes falling on the now empty bottle of rum on his desk. Well, it certainly had been a long time since he drunk this much in one night he thought giddily. Deciding to retire to his room for the night as he awaited her response, he picked up his phone and staggering slightly - it really had been a long time since he drunk this much - cut off the lights and left his office.

Once in his room he changed into sleepwear and flopped onto the full sized bed, moaning slightly as he stretched cramped muscles from having sat at his desk for the last five hours. When his phone didn't ding after ten minutes he decided to try to sleep, figuring Emma had fallen asleep as it was well after midnight. He couldn't sleep though, his mind drifting to the picture of Emma whenever he closed his eyes and with a heavy sigh he decided to seek solace in his garden, hoping the night air combined with the rum in his system would lull him to sleep eventually. The breeze coming through his open bedroom window seemed to be a rare mild one for a Southern summer and he felt with some certainty that he wouldn't be suffocated by the ever present oppressing heat. With it being late he didn't bother changing out of his red plaid pajama pants and grey t-shirt, simply slipping on his shoes and grabbing a blanket as he headed toward the garden.

Spreading the blanket out by the patch of daisies that were in full bloom he made himself comfortable, tucking his arms under his head as a makeshift pillow. Breathing in the sweet aromas of the flowers mixed with the earthy undertones of the soil, he gazed up at the stars and let his mind wonder. He was so lost in thought that it wasn't until he heard the clearing of a throat that he knew he was no longer alone.

"Father Jones," came the almost whisper, and he turned his head to see Emma standing but a few feet away, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Killian unlocked his arms from behind his head and sat up, resting on his elbows. He took in the sight of her; she was the very image of perfection, bathed in the light of the full moon, dressed in the same white sundress she had worn that afternoon that came to a stop just above her knees. Her golden tresses were no longer messy but perfectly combed and flowing down her shoulders, and he couldn't help but think all she was missing was a crown of daisies to adorn her head like a halo.

He had no idea why she was here, but he found himself not questioning it one bit. Realizing he had yet to answer her he asked, voice stuttering at first, "Emma. I- it's late. What are you doing here?" His eyes landed on her nimble fingers that were twisting at the ends of her hair, the urge to feel them between his own fingers hitting him. She made no attempt to answer him, instead moving to the corner of the blanket where she slipped off her sandals and then padded over to him, stopping to look down at him as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

He didn't know what she was doing and when he started to make an attempt to get up she moved quickly, placing a foot on either side of him, watching with wide eyes as she slowly lowered herself to her knees and moved up a little to place herself right in his lap. He could feel the warmth of her through his pajama pants and he sat up fully, his arms instinctively going around her waist. Her hands slid up his stomach, taking his shirt along with them and his muscles tensed under the contact. He knew he should stop her but he couldn't bring himself to do it, not with the way their afternoon encounter had left him aching. Helping her remove his shirt she leaned forward to place wet kisses on his jaw, working her way up to nibble on his earlobe as her nails raked through his dusting of chest hair.

Killian ran his hand up Emma's back to bury it in her flowing hair, groaning heavily when she nipped at his neck. Pulling her back to look at him, blue locked onto green as he swirled his thumb and index finger around one golden lock before burying his hand fully in the blonde waterfall again, tugging lightly to make her expose her long neck to his greedy mouth. She moaned at the sensation, the sound going straight to his already hard cock and he scraped his teeth almost impatiently over her pulse point, feeling its rapid pace against his tongue. Working his way down to where her neck met her shoulder he began to worry a mark on her smooth flesh, uncaring who saw it as the drive to mark her as his overwhelmed him. Emma's hands curled in the hair at the nape of his neck as he moved farther down to her collarbone, the strap of her dress slipping off her shoulder like it had in the picture she had sent him not long along as she threw her head back.

"Killian," she moaned, rocking against him.

Tightening the arm still around her waist he pulled her flush to him, rolling them over to lay her gently on her back. Emma's legs opened naturally, cradling him like he was made for her as he pressed his lips to hers, his tongue running along her bottom lip and seeking entrance which she granted without hesitation. He got his first real taste of her as their tongues met and he moaned at the taste of cinnamon, never wanting to leave her mouth. She was returning the kiss with as much fervor as he was giving, one hand gripping his hair while the other grasped at his bare back, her tongue meeting his stroke for stroke. With one hand buried in her hair the other moved up her body to palm her breast over the soft fabric of her sundress, his hips rutting lightly into her at her deep moan. He was in sensory overload, surrounded by the intoxicating taste and smell of her and he pulled back for air, bearing his weight on the hand not in her hair. Looking down at her, golden hair sprawled out like a halo on the blanket, her green eyes the darkest shade he'd ever seen and lips red and swollen, he couldn't remember ever seeing a more beautiful sight. Emma smiled up at him innocently as she hooked her ankles around his waist and bucked her hips against his arousal.

Closing his eyes Killian clenched his jaw and exhaled heavily through his nose - she was clearly hell bent on testing all of his boundaries tonight.

Unlocking her ankles Emma set her feet flat on the ground, the bending of her knees making her dress settle higher up on her thighs and exposing her lace panties to his hungry gaze. He could remember the first glimpse he had gotten of them on that windy Sunday morning and he suddenly knew exactly what he wanted to do. Sitting back on his heels he licked at the corner of his lips in anticipation. Leaning forward and placing his hands just under her dress, he slid them slowly over soft skin, causing Emma to arch her back off the ground and allowing him to push the fabric fully up to expose her toned stomach. Pausing in his efforts, Killian caught sight of the under side of her breasts and unable to stop himself, ran the pads of his thumbs along the soft globes and was rewarded with the sound of Emma's breath hitching in her throat.

Pulling the dress the rest of the way off Emma leaned off the blanket long enough to discard it off to the side before lying back down, her left arm tucked under head and her right hand coming up to play idly with her breast. Killian watched her for a moment, taking in her alabaster skin glowing in the moonlight and the way she rolled her nipple through her fingers. Dropping down he captured her lips once more in a slow tangle of tongues, ignoring his body's insistent demand to just thrust into her and take.

He's dreamed about this moment too much to rush his exploration of her.

Emma moaned into the night air and chased his lips as he moved down to her left breast, flicking his tongue over the rose colored flesh until it pebbled beneath his ministrations. He could feel her fingers raking through his hair, pressing him to her and he worried the hardened peak between his teeth, a soft cry escaping her lips when he nipped at her and a moan as he soothed the sting with the flat of his tongue. Continuing his path down, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses, he dipped his tongue into her belly button, smiling when it elicited a breathless giggle from above. When he pressed a soft kiss above the waistband of her lacey boy shorts Emma let out a contented sigh and that he felt all the way to his heart.

His eyes darted up to her face, silently asking if he could continue and his answer came in the form of a small nod and whispered, "Yes." Hooking his fingers into the flimsy fabric he pulled them slowly down her legs, shoving them into the pocket of his pajamas when he finally slipped them off completely. He planted open mouthed kisses, licking and nipping at the tender flesh of her inner thigh as he made his way back to where he could see her already glistening and ready for him in the moonlight. Pausing only for a moment, he looked at her from beneath hooded eyes, watching her chest rise and fall almost in rhythm with the rapid beating of his own heart and he was once again struck with the thought that he had never seen anything more beautiful. Pleased with the pink blush he could see spreading across her chest, he lowered his head back down to the apex of her thighs.

"So beautiful, Emma," he rasped against her skin, closing his eyes as he breathed her in. In that moment he didn't care about his vows to the priesthood or his own mortal soul, all that mattered was the scent of her invading his senses and what was to come.

Testing the waters - it had been a long time since he had been with a woman - he placed his lips in a soft kiss on her damp curls and almost on instinct darted his tongue out into her slick folds. Emma's thighs instantly clenched around his head for a brief moment, a breathy moan ripping through her that sounded like Killian. Once her thighs released him he ran the flat of his tongue fully against her, moaning as he took in the tangy taste of her. When his teeth scraped her bundle of nerves Emma fisted her right hand into the inky darkness of his hair, pulling him closer to where she needed him most. He let out a small laugh at the movement, one he could tell vibrated through her core and up her spine as she pressed further into him.

Adding a finger and then another into her slick heat, stretching her deliciously, he imagined what it will feel like when he sinks his cock into her and he has to stop himself from the train of thought lest he comes in his pants like an adolescent schoolboy. Keeping his tongue on her clit and sucking hard he sinks a third finger into her, mumbling his praise of good girl into her core. Wanting to watch her come undone he replaced his tongue with his thumb, trying to maintain the right pressure as she raised her hips off the blanket, chasing her release by fucking herself onto his fingers and it was the most erotic sight he had ever seen - Emma Nolan in the throes of passion.

His cock gave a particularly painful twinge when his eyes lowered to watch his fingers disappear into her core only to reappear covered in her wetness and he rutted his hips down into the blanket beneath them, needing to relieve some of his own discomfort. It was short lived but this wasn't about him, not tonight. He needed to see her take her pleasure more than he needed his own.

Feeling her warm walls begin to flutter around his fingers he quickly replaced his thumb with his mouth again, worrying her clit between his teeth while keeping his brutal pace of thrusting in and out of her. Emma's eyes snapped shut, her hips rising off the ground and thighs clenching around his head as she came with a silent scream. He kept pace, working her through her high and when her hips settled back down his actions turned to slow, tender ones. Removing his fingers he caressed her slowly, feeling the aftershocks of her release against his tongue. Resting his head on her thigh he watched in blissful amazement as her breathing started to slow, her blushed skin returning to its heavenly glow and her eyelashes flutter open. She was drawing lazy circles in his hair before she trailed her hand down to cup his cheek and he leaned into the touch, bringing his head up off her thigh.

"Bless me Father, indeed," she let out in a low breathy tone, smiling warmly down at him. The pad of her thumb ran over his bottom lip and a smirk formed at the corner of his mouth as he lightly nipped at her finger. When he feels her shudder beneath him he realizes they should probably seek cover. They've already run a great risk by being out in the open like this as long as they have been, even in the middle of the night. Besides, he plans on repeating their performance in the comfort of his bed - over and over again. Sitting up on his knees and grabbing her dress, he looked down at his angel bathed in moonlight, wondering how he got so lucky to have her like this. He starts to reach out his hand toward her, ever the gentleman, when the sound of the church bells startle him.

Eyes snapping open, it takes him a few seconds to realize through the pounding in his head that he's not in the garden with Emma but in his bed, t-shirt soaked in sweat and his cock at attention from his fevered dream. He must have dozed off last night without realizing it. It had felt so real and he swore he could still taste her on his tongue, but he knew that would never be. Rubbing his hands over his face he pressed his head farther back into the pillow, a heavy sigh escaping him.

"Bloody hell."

His tone was laced with sleep and aggravation and when his cock gave an almost painful throb he threw back the covers almost angrily, getting up to take a very cold shower. His head pounded a little harder as he sat up and he briefly wondered how much rum he had last night. He certainly hadn't felt this bad since his early Naval days when he bar hopped with Robin while on shore leave. He's halfway to the bathroom, knowing he's going to need an extra mile on his run for sure when the events of last night come back to him in a rush - the flirty text messages, the overtly forward way he had been with Emma, the picture - and he feels guilt slam into him like a semi-truck.

God, what had he done?

Killian's dream sequence was written by the AMAZING xpumpkindumplingx! I am a firm believer in helping those getting into the writing game and when she sent me this I was like 'hell yea I'll put it in a TMTC chapter!' She's written a few other things since then so go check her out on tumblr!