A/n: A bit fluffier than usual, but don't be fooled, the angst is still there and their problems are not all solved… but maybe they're beginning their journey to get there?


Settle down with me
And I'll be your safety
You'll be my lady
I was made to keep your body warm
But I'm cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms

Kiss Me – Ed Sheeran

Contentment was being nestled between Emma Swan legs, of that much he was quite sure.

"Oh my god."

Killian groaned contentedly, savoring her soft moans and each languid roll of her hips as he continued to lick lazy strokes between her legs – the pace of practiced lovers taking their time with each other. Each touch was calculated yet casual, light and warm and then firm again in all the right places her pale thighs still trembling on either side of his head as he only gradually allowed her to come down from her high, dragging it out as long as possible.

"Fuck."

Killian smiled when a pointed toe dragged up his back slowly and then slipped to the side, a leg landing on the bed with a bounce and a sigh from its owner.

It could have been hours or days they'd spent in that bed. It still felt like moments ago they had fallen against the wall in a heap of trembling limbs and gasping breaths, her body soft against his chest, the both of them equally battered and broken and exposed. It felt like only minutes since he had wrapped his arms around her waist and mumbled into her bruised, marked neck that perhaps they should go to bed - terrified that she'd push him away and leave him.

Now, they were tangled in the sheets that once again smelled of them instead of just the familiar, sickening scent of sweat and rum and he reveled in it.

He'd missed her scent. Her taste. The feel of her skin beneath the roughened pads of his fingers. The way her breath hitched, that tiny squeak when he surprised her with his touch. He'd missed her like this, here in their bed, not the crisp, unfamiliar linens of a hotel room but home. He couldn't get enough of it. Watching and feeling her come undone over and over again (sometimes on her own and others riding out the devastating waves along with her), of tangling their legs together in a comfortable silence, of just talking – their conversations all hushed tones and soothing touches of fingers and lips and limbs, the physical conveying just as much as their words did, if not more.

He felt he was starving for it all, dying, emaciated for this intimacy during their months apart and even spent and pleasurably exhausted he didn't want to stop.

He'd thought that having her that past month could be what it felt like to have her back – it couldn't ever hope compare to this.

Killian nuzzled her inner thigh, lips brushing the sensitive skin. "You are so lovely."

Her answer was a breathy laugh.

Gods.

His chest tightened and swelled with overwhelming emotion and with a renewed energy he bit down roughly, sucking at the skin of her thigh, passion building and bubbling over as his hand moved to cup her ass beneath her with a pleased grunt. She jolted in surprise, hissing and then moaning, another breathed out laugh escaping her as she mumbled something about taking it easy. His heart thudded at the sound, his tongue and then his lips soothing over the mark. Emma was laughing – truly laughing – no matter how short or soft the sound, she was laughing again. His mouth traveled inward and Emma gasped sharply, wriggling and arching away from his touch, cursing under her breath. Her fingers dug into his hair and he looked up just in time to see her green eyes glancing down to meet his gaze.

"What?"

"You coming up for air anytime soon?"

That breathy, teasing tone that made her sound well-loved, well-fucked, satisfied, happy was music to his ears and instead of heeding her implied wish, he gave a little shrug, smirking as he licked another stroke, sucking her clit into his mouth for a brief moment making her hips jerk and her hand tighten in his hair.

"Killian," she gasped again and eased her other leg from his shoulder, nudging him away with a foot. "Give it a rest. I don't think I can- shit, no more."

"Too much?" His eyes sparkled with mischief. "You'll have to excuse me, you haven't allowed me the pleasure in quite some time."

Emma groaned. "Killian, we've been in bed for," she lolled her head to the side to look at the bright, digital red of the alarm clock on the nightstand. "- god, it's 2am."

"And?"

"We've been in bed since like noon."

He kneaded the curve of her ass in his palm and pressed a kiss to her hip. "I see no pressing issue."

"How are you even alive?"

His own responding laugh rumbled from his chest and he dropped another gentle kiss to her inner thigh. "Love, this is the most alive that I've felt in bloody months. Besides, we've allowed each other sleep… on multiple occasions."

"And we've had sex like four times. God, I haven't had sex that much in twenty four hours since I don't even remember when, but it was probably sometime with you," she smirked, closing her eyes, still stroking his hair absentmindedly.

Killian chuckled again and slid up her body, peppering kisses to her naval, her stomach, her ribs, rolling her gently to the side as he crawled beside her, spooning her. His good hand trailed over her following the path of his kisses, finally reaching up and palming at her breast. His thumb traced over her nipple and then slid around the curved underside gentle, lazy – he just wasn't ready to stop touching her.

It had been hours of alternating making love and fucking away the pain, the confusion, the fear, of talking and tangling limbs and resting in the comfortable silence, of drifting off to sleep just to wake up to warm, soft lips and tender touches that started the cycle all over again - he was spent, pleasantly limp and drained of all real energy yet still he couldn't stop touching her with what little was left.

Emma pushed her hips back lightly in response, rubbing into his groin with a soft, amused "hmm" sound.

"What?"

"Just making sure you finally tired yourself out," she mumbled sleepily, and Killian couldn't help but admire how beautiful she looked lying sprawled on her side in an exhausted heap next to him, her fair skin a contrast with the silken, black sheets, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

"A moment ago, you were begging me for rest," he whispered seductively into her hair, mouth curving into a playful smirk. "If anyone has been thoroughly exhausted, Darling, I think it's you." His lips grazed the base of her neck and he could feel her shudder, no doubt sending a tingle down her spine when he kissed there again. "Though," he nuzzled his nose into her blonde locks and then trailed casual kisses down her neck. "After watching you unravel for my mouth after so very long, I am positively replete." He bit down lightly at the juncture of her shoulder, hand sliding over her hip and pulling her closer into the curve of his torso.

"Watch it, Buddy, or you're gonna get yourself worked up again."

He chuckled into her neck, his hand wrapping around her waist and holding her tight. He was positive that wasn't going to happen, not right now at least, but he enjoyed her teasing. "So you say, love, though if it is meant in protest or encouragement, I have yet to decide."

"Shutup. I don't think I can even move."

"The lady acts so innocent."

She repeated another tired shutup, reaching for the bedside lamp and flicking the switch, plunging them into darkness. She snuggled further into the pillows, her body melting with his as she relaxed and he let himself marvel for the hundredth time how her body fit perfectly against his - it always had. He let minutes pass just listening to her breathing, steady, rhythmic, each exhale leaving her with a small sigh as she began to drift off and as tired as he was, he didn't want to sleep.

Instead, he spent their time tracing patterns across her skin and pressing light kisses into her shoulder – if he stayed awake perhaps the dream wouldn't end.

"I love you."

Killian paused his idle ministrations at the hushed confession from the woman beside him, slowly releasing his held breath once he realized that he had been holding it. He'd heard the words more than a few times in the past day (and night), as if the dam had been broken and she couldn't keep them in any longer, but every time still felt like the first time.

"I love you too," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of her head. "Now sleep, Darling."

She grunted and shifted, glancing over to look at the clock again. "Dammit. It's Sunday."

"Aye."

"I have work Monday."

"That leaves us a day to stay like this, then, now doesn't it?" he murmured, drawing the blankets further over their bodies, quickly returning to wrap his arm around her snugly, willing her to let this last just a little bit longer.

"You have work on Monday."

The mood of the conversation shifted, he felt it in his bones, in the shiver down his spine that made him want to hold her closer. Her tone was no longer simply exhausted and fuckstruck but heavy and familiar and it sent a sick feeling straight to his gut. He knew what this was; he'd expected it. They'd spent hours in a haze of overwhelming emotion and now reality was creeping back in, they could never hide from it forever – but it couldn't stop him from trying.

"Killian, we should talk."

Of course she wouldn't let it go and maybe she shouldn't.

"We've been talking all night, love, now you've exhausted me," he forced a chuckle, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending to try to sleep.

"Killian, I'm serious."

He stilled, nerves fluttering in his chest. "Is this the moment then?" he asked calmly. "When you realize that this is all too much and go on your way?"

There was a short pause and then a soft "no".

Killian groaned out his relief, unable to stop the sound from escaping his throat. He hugged her close and sighed into her neck as a warm comfort flooded him to the point of hot pinpricks of tears burning the backs of his eyes, the air leaving his lungs in an noticeable whoosh that he was sure she was aware of by the way she nestled her face into the crook of his arm.

"I'm not going anywhere. Not yet."

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to ignore that last comment and focus on the first. "Good," he mumbled gruffly. "Then sleep."

"I just don't…" she began slowly. "I don't remember."

"Remember what, love?"

"How to be happy. With you. With myself. I don't remember how to not run away. When was the last time we were even happy? I mean, really happy, Killian."

"In this bed or overall?" he kissed her neck softly, hoping to ease her mind (or maybe just his own). "Because I'm rather happy now."

"Kil," she sighed and he wasn't sure if it was a rare and uncharacteristic term of endearment or if she simply cut herself off before she'd finished. "…when was it?"

He took a long moment to think about it and his hand slipped into hers, briefly realizing that they kept doing that – touching and then moving and then touching again - the both of them hesitant to break the connection no matter the conflicting emotions surrounding these hours and somehow, that casual thought alone gave him hope. His nerves eased (though only barely) and he rubbed soothing circles against the back of her thumb as he tried to sift through the past year and a half for something good, something real, findingit more easily than he'd initially imagined.

"Our anniversary," he answered finally, dipping to drop a kiss on her shoulder. "I mean, the last one before…" he trailed off (because he always trailed off when he thought about it). "Do you remember it?"

Killian felt her sink deeper into his arms, settling her head just beneath his chin, he felt the heavy breath that shivered and trembled through her body and he knew the answer.

"Yeah," her reply was so faint he barely heard it. "Yeah, I remember. It was a good day."

"I recall staying in bed all day then as well." He kissed behind her ear, tenderly unclasping their fingers, both of their palms resting flat on her bare stomach, stroking there absentmindedly. "I recall a certain siren getting us quite the interesting book…"

"What?" she laughed breathily, and his smile was back (her laugh did that). "I had to keep the pirate who's done everything interested somehow."

"You never had to keep my interest, Emma. How could I ever tire of you?" he murmured, meaning it as a promise more than a question – a promise that she never had to worry, that he'd never tire of her, he'd never leave if she only gave him the chance again (they'd never fail each other again). "Besides, I hadn't done everything with you, love."

"Oh, and you have now?" A hint of warmth and teasing crept back into her voice.

"Well," his tongue slid over his lower lip. "After that day." He pushed against her with a slow, sensual roll of his hips, pointedly rubbing his cock over the curve of her ass with a low chuckle.

Emma raised an eyebrow, glancing over her shoulder to be sure that he saw she was unamused (like hell she wasn't, he knew every one of her looks like his own), throwing a weak smack behind her that landed somewhere on his thigh. "I remember rum being involved. A lot of rum."

"Not enough that I forgot that day. Or any of the interesting positions we attempted," he added in a rough, husky undertone, nipping at her ear, slipping a calf between her legs, clinging to her, to these memories, to this moment so that he didn't have to think about the possibility of its end.

"I was sore for a week from some of those."

"But pleasantly sore, yes?" he reminded her cheekily, nudging his nose into her hair again (gods, how he'd yearned for these little gestures and talks, these tiny bits of intimacy that they had lacked for so long).

"I'm pleasantly sore now." She shifted her legs, tucking her knees closer to her chest and winced. "Or maybe just sore."

"Sorry."

"You are not."

"Perhaps," he murmured, nibbling on the top of the ear that peeked out from underneath blonde hair. "How could I be? Every time we were together was bloody incredible," he assured her, kissing her head with a contented sigh.

"Every time?"

"You disagree?"

"What about the time you tried to switch positions and I elbowed you in the face?" She rolled over halfway, looking back to meet his eyes, a soft, lazy smile spreading across her face that he could only just make out in the dark (it made her glow, he noticed).

"We recovered."

"I could name a few more?"

"Hush, love," he murmured, pulling her tighter into him and nuzzling his nose into her neck with a new fervor. "I'm attempting to woo you."

"Are you?" Emma rolled over the rest of the way, stopping just before their lips touched and he caught his breath at the closeness, gods, but she made his heart pound in his chest for too many conflicting reasons to process. "You really need to woo your wi-"

She cut herself off abruptly and he could swear his pounding heart skipped, the word she had almost said hitting her just as hard as it did him and he could feel her stiffen as she turned away from him, her back warm against his chest, her body wracked with a shuddering gasp as she finally, gradually relaxed.

He had never stopped thinking of her as his wife, always painfully reminded that she wasn't.

She pressed her cheek into the pillow. "You've already got me into bed, Killian, you're good, no need for wooing," she tried to joke it off, curling herself into a tighter ball, but he stopped her, gently coaxing her legs back to tangle with his (like they should be).

"Don't." He stroked her thigh, his breath coming out in light, warm puffs against her hair. "Don't do that, Emma."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Emma-"

"I know," she sighed, shifting against him, sliding a hand over his and squeezing gently. "You don't have to say that this is more than just sex, I'm pretty sure we're past that at this point."

"You're right, I don't think that I do," he rest his chin on her shoulder and relaxed inwardly (only slightly but enough to ease the tightness in his chest) enjoying the feeling of her hand caressing his. "But do I need ask how this night will end?"

"Just like this," she breathed out on a hesitant breath. "We sleep and-" she threaded her fingers with his, drawing his hand up to her mouth and kissing it lightly. "-and we figure out what's next in the morning."

Brushing his lips against her hair a final time, he nodded, and for a little while the room was silent.

He appreciated the quiet in a way, another few precious moments in which he could hold and caress and pretend before it could all come crashing down. He couldn't imagine this ending differently, no matter the bedroom promises or sweet nothings whispered between them, it had all been too good to be true, having Emma Swan so open and light and his and they hadn't had anything good in a long, long time.

"I didn't sleep with him," he heard her mumble and despite himself the rest of the tension he carried in his muscles eased. "Luke."

A beat passed.

"Good." He murmured, indifferent to how selfish that sounded, not sure of what other response was appropriate when finding out that the woman you loved hadn't given herself to another man.

"I just wanted you to know."

He sighed and squeezed her hand; she squeezed back. "It wouldn't have changed my feelings for you, Emma."

"I know. But I wanted you to know," she whispered, shrugging her shoulders up to her neck, prompting him to pull her closer (no matter how many times he tugged her closer they could never be close enough). "I want this to work."

"As do I, love."

"But it can't if we don't fix this. Honestly, I don't even know if we still have all the pieces left to put it all back together." She paused and he could practically feel her mulling over her thoughts, choosing her words carefully.

He answered for her.

"I'd like to try."

She let out a shaky breath. "If this is going to work we can't do this anymore. We have to talk to each other, Killian. We have to be a team again."

"I still think we make a rather good one."

She hummed, a low, wistful sound; she pulled the covers to her chin and settled into the bed against him.

"Maybe once we did."

He waited for her to go on.

Nothing came.

He let out a final sigh and tucked her into his chest.

Killian awoke sometime later to the shifting of the bed and he couldn't remember a day in his recent memory that he'd woken up feeling quite so sated, grumbling in his throat and fighting the urge to wake despite the light shining brightly in his face from the bedroom window. When he finally opened his eyes, he was met with the pleasant view of her dressing, shimmying jeans up her smooth, bare legs and fastening the button.

He stretched lazily as he watched, hardly remembering that this wasn't his usual view or that it could soon be gone, arching his back languidly, grunting as he felt his satisfyingly worn muscles stretch and his joints crack. He hadn't slept this well in bloody months.

"Good morning."

"Oh." She glanced over just as she was pulling a black, long sleeved shirt turtleneck over her shoulders and down her stomach (he noticed that it was something that she had left there). "Hey."

"What time is it?"

Emma shrugged into a sweater, buttoning it up, her hazel eyes never leaving her quickly moving fingers. "Uh, it's about nine."

He sat up halfway, balancing himself on his elbows and tipping his head to the side. "Are you going somewhere, love?"

"I-" she stared at him for a long moment and eventually shook her head. "Just getting dressed. How'd you sleep?"

He chuckled and let himself drop back into the mattress. "Blissfully, love," he sighed, his smirk dissolving into something more sober when a new thought struck him. "I missed that, you know. Sleeping with you." She raised a skeptical brow and he rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant."

Emma shook her head, smiling softly as she slipped into her shoes. He frowned, sitting back up when he saw her go through her purse, picking up a few discarded items and shoving them into the bag.

"You are leaving."

"I…" she grabbed her phone, shoving it into her pocket and casting him an apologetic look. "I'm just going somewhere."

"Yes. I gathered that," he replied tersely, bracing himself for the blow that was sure to come, stunned when she simply nodded towards the door.

"Yeah, I have something I need to do... So come with me."

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