A/N: If you haven't heard Florence + The Machine's cover of this song, I'd highly recommend it.

The lights are on, but you're not home
Your mind is not your own
Your heart sweats, your body shakes
Another kiss is what it takes
You can't sleep, you can't eat
There's no doubt, you're in deep
Your throat is tight, you can't breathe
Another kiss is all you need…

"Addicted to Love" - Robert Palmer

Addicted to Love

"I know what you're doing, love…"

The Rabbit Hole is unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon, just a few of the regulars, and it was probably for the best. The summer heat was oppressive and most of the inhabitants of Storybrooke were down by the shore, taking refuge from the weather. She was already there when he walked in, chatting up the bartender, tossing around that enigmatic smile that had ensnared him once upon a time.

"I'm sure that I have no idea what you're talking about, Killian."

She looks up at him, through those long and thick lashes of hers, and she almost seems innocent.

Almost.

He's cornered her by that thing that this world's inhabitants call a jukebox and her hair is tied up in a messy bun, allowing him a delicious and unobstructed view of her long neck. He's close enough that he's practically salivating at the scent of coconut on her skin from her favorite lotion. It reminds him of his travels and the little minx knows that he loves the way it smells on her. She draws closer to him, running her fingers down the chain of his pendant and then over the small patch of dark chest hair that peeks out from his button up shirt, smiling as she does it.

"You are by far… the most dangerous woman that I've ever encountered."

"Now what have I done to earn such a title?"

"You know bloody well what you've done, Swan."

She gently tugs on the chain, pulling him closer and eliciting a sharp hiss from him. His lips practically tremble at the proximity, aching to feel hers, and he hears her let out a small lithe laugh. She's enjoying this, tormenting him as only she could, knowing that she could drive him to the brink of insanity.

"All of this over a song, Killian?"

"It's our song."

She chuckles at the clear emphasis on the word "our" but she left him no choice. She had put their song on and had asked that bartender, quite loudly if he did say so himself, if he would dance with her. The volume of her request was clearly for his benefit and he nearly crushed the tumbler that held the generous helping of rum in his hand. He would've gladly hurled it at the bartender's face but, as if he could sense the pirate's foul disposition, he knew better and politely declined Emma's invitation.

"I didn't realize that you were that sentimental."

"Sentimental? It was the song that we danced to at our wedding."

"And look how that turned out."

She loosens her grip on his chain and leans back against that infernal music box. His eyes roam over her body and sees her white shirt ride ever so slightly up, exposing a sliver of her delicate taut skin. The hours that he's spent worshiping that skin of hers runs through his mind and he's only brought out of his reverie by the glint of the silver band that is still perched upon her finger.

"Yet, you're still wearing your ring."

She looks down at her hand, admiring the ring for a moment but then just offers a nonchalant shrug.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

And now it's his turn to laugh. He leers over her, trailing one of his long fingers up her neck and then underneath her chin, tilting her head upwards so that their lips were just a breath away from each other. He gently swipes his thumb over her bottom lip and he can feel a pull in the pit of his stomach. It's been far too long since he had the pleasure of tasting them.

"You forget that you can't lie to me, Swan. You haven't taken that ring off because you don't want to…"

She yanks him by the pendant again, pulling him out of the sight of the other bar patrons and into the back room. Before he can even say a word, she launches herself into his arms, charging at his mouth and he responds in kind, pinning her against the wall, closing what little space there had been between them. He's completely lost himself in sensation and he feels himself bowing to her will, completely at her mercy. He swears under his breath as she bites his bottom lip all the while, discretely slipping a hand into his now unbuckled pants.

"All I wanted you to do is fight for me, Killian."

Her lips are right at his ear and her breath is ragged, brimming with the same need that was coursing through his veins. He hoists her up into his arms and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist. He marvels at the way that their bodies seem to just meld together, as if they were made for each other. Soon enough, his pants are in a heap at his ankles and he's positioned right at her entrance.

"I always fight for what is mine."

And with that, he enters her. She throws her head back at the sharpness, gasping, and he holds onto her even tighter, attempting to anchor himself to something because he was surely going to lose control at the rate that they were going. His legs tremble as he feels her tighten around him and their lips meet again, furiously battling for dominance as they began to move in tandem.

"Possessive much?"

The tail end of her question comes out in the form of a strangled cry as he slides into her, over and over, each thrust more forceful than the last. He quickly covers her mouth with his, keeping their moans muffled. The last thing that they wanted or needed was a curious bar patron to stumble on this interlude. Her nails bore into his skin, leaving behind little crescent shaped indents, marking him as hers.

"Don't act like you don't love it, Swan."

"Pirate."

"Princess."

She smirks.

"Now, don't act like you don't love it."

"I love you… that's for sure."

And it's those words that seem to break her and she literally comes apart in his arms, shaking as her orgasm rips through her body. He's quick to follow, emptying himself inside of her with her name on his lips. He's never going to want anything as much as he wants her. He could fight it all he wants but he knows that it would just be in vain.

He's never going to get enough of her.

"Do you even remember what we were fighting about?"

Her question comes in between heaving breaths, attempting to recover from their encounter.

"I can't say that I do, love… but it must've not been important enough since neither one of us can remember what it was."

"Will you come back home now?"

He almost doesn't hear her. Her voice is so quiet and he realizes that all of that bravado that had been there before had dissipated. She still clings to him, burying her face into the crook of his neck, and he looks down at her, offering a small smile.

"Wherever you are, Emma… I'm home."