Just a little Friday smutlet, set in future, happier times.
He walks them towards the first two open stools he sees, but she redirects, steering him to the last in the farthest corner where the music is louder and the shadows darker. There's only one and he begins to protest, but her hands are strong as she pushes him down, her slim body sliding between his open legs as she leans between him and the knotted wood of the bar. The material of her dress is a miracle, so thin he can feel the heat of her skin as his hand wraps around her waist, pulling her closer until his cheeks warm from her breath caressing his lips.
"What'll it be, love?"
A shiver of pleasure rolls down his spine as her thumb begins to trace his jaw, the short nails of her fingertips scratching lightly at the soft skin of his throat.
"I'll have what you're having."
What he wants to be having is her, right here if she'd let him. Peering over her shoulder, he makes eye contact with the brute behind the bar, a former member of his crew swept up in the last curse now spending his nights serving at Storybrooke's only watering hole. Two fingers held high secures a nod, allowing Killian's attention to be redirected back to where it belongs, back to Emma. He has to lift his head slightly to reach her lips, the heels she wore tonight giving her height over him in his seated position, a power she seems to enjoy by the force of her kiss.
He's never told her how much he enjoys her like this, in control, but he's sure she knows as his body's reaction to her is hard to ignore. Her fingers guide his head as she wants it, turning him slightly so their mouths align perfectly and his nose tucks against her cheek as he welcomes the exploration of her tongue. This secluded corner of the bar she chose begins to make sense as her inhibitions melt away with each pass of her lips, each dig of his fingers into the small of her back. The harsh sound of glass against wood breaks them apart, but only far enough for her reach behind her and lift the small tumbler of amber liquid to her lips.
With wide eyes he watches her drain the glass, no sipping for his lady, not tonight. He lets go of her waist to reach for his own drink, but her hand stops his progress, instead molding his fingers back around her even lower than before. Not knowing what she might be up to, he realizes he doesn't much care, not when her eyes are piercing him with emerald tinged desire. One of her hands curls into the hair at the nape of his neck as the other retrieves his rum, the heavy bottom of the glass brushing his nose as she finishes his drink as well.
"None for me, Swan?"
Her eyelashes flutter closed as the alcohol burns her throat and with slightly unsteady hands she pushes the empty glass back on the bar behind her back. The sweet smell of rum fills his nostrils as she leans more fully into his space, her words a sultry whisper against his cheek.
"I saved you a taste."
Without further preamble, she opens her mouth over his, whimpering aloud as he unabashedly sucks the rum from her tongue. There's a tiny part of him that knows they should find somewhere more private, but something deeper, wilder, keeps him where he is, helping her maneuver his thigh between her legs, the fabric of her dress rising high enough that his fingertips feel the satin of her panties as he moves to cup her backside. His desire for her is almost painful confined in his tight jeans, but he refocuses on her, swallowing her pants as she rocks her center against him, her arousal warm and wet against the dark denim. Visions of pushing her back against the bar and spreading her wide, tasting her sweetness as he brings her to completion with his tongue cloud his thoughts and he knows his control is hanging on a perilous thread.
Forever in sync, she chooses that moment to stop her ministrations, her legs shaky as she disentangles herself to step around him with blazing fire in her eyes. Dumbstruck with passion, he watches her hips as she slinks down the back hallway, not sparing him a glance as she knows he will follow.
He's been thankful for her magic before, when saving his life and the lives of those they love, performing acts of beauty and light and everything good. But in this moment, with his cock throbbing inside of her heat and his mouth sucking fervently at her breast, he has never been more thankful for her ability to perform the simple silencing spell allowing her moans to ring out in the dingy stall of the Rabbit Hole's one bathroom. With her back pressed against the dented metal, her legs tight around his waist, he dives into her with abandon, each pull of his hair between her fingers increasing his pace and the strength of his thrusts. Releasing her breast, his mouth finds hers so he can taste the first cry of her release, the tip of his hook piercing the door above their heads as his mercilessly follows. Riding them both slowly through the aftershocks, his kiss turns soft, passion sliding effortlessly into something sweeter, a soul deep love that he still doesn't know how he's managed to deserve. When the need to breathe becomes too strong to ignore, he pulls his lips from hers, but keeps her close, waiting until her eyes flutter open to finally find his voice.
"Emma, you are far more intoxicating than the strongest of rum, and god willing, I will never get my fill of you."
A small gasp escapes his lips as she tightens her inner muscles around where they are still joined, her eyes alight with a mixture of mischief and longing.
"I'm counting on it, pirate."
