Author's note: Just another little one shot. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope.

Curses

The first few times it happened, Killian didn't think anything of it.

Their relationship was still so new, so different, from how it had been before their trip to the past, he merely assumed that they were still giddy from being able to give into the attraction that had been between them from the very beginning.

Killian Jones was many things, but a fool was not one of them. His Swan was beautiful and fiery and very desirable. What kind of idiot would he be if he didn't want her?

But now he was starting to wonder. Not worry precisely, but wonder. Because the pull he felt for her, especially at times like this, sometimes felt too strong to be real.

"Goddamn it!" Emma yelled from the kitchen. "What in the fuck is wrong with this goddamn toaster?!"

Killian groaned inwardly, feeling that twinge in his gut. Emma was not a staid woman by any stretch, but she certainly had a colorful vocabulary. It only really came out when Henry was away ("Language!" she'd always mutter when he was telling the lad some of his more adventurous stories) or when fighting a particularly stubborn adversary, but gods, did he love it. To hear those dirty, filthy things tumble from her lips drove him crazy. He had no idea why.

There was a crash and Emma cursed again (Holy fucking shit, where did they make this thing? The fucking moon?). Killian got up, coming around the corner with a predatory look in his eye. "Leave the bloody toaster, love," he said in a low voice, twisting her around by the wrist. She opened her mouth again, protest prepared, but it died on her lips as he kissed her, dragging her against his chest. She melted into his embrace, redirecting her frustration with the infernal contraption in a decidedly more pleasurable direction.

As time went on, Killian grew more curious about this little thing of his. It didn't matter what it was—Emma cursing the bloody moving picture box, Emma cursing her beloved Bug for breaking down again, Emma cursing under her breath at some little annoyance (Gods, especially that last one)-Killian was drawn to her, kissing her, pulling on her clothes, bending her over the nearest surface. But it felt too good to stop and Emma didn't seem to be complaining.

She had a thing for his hook, perhaps this was his version of that.

He got home from the docks, arms filled with a couple of items from that day's catch, intending to help Emma make dinner. He kicked the door closed, wondering where she could be. Emma promised to meet him as soon as she got off her shift at the station.

"Swan?" Killian called into the seemingly empty apartment. "You here, love?"

"Kitchen!" She yelled back, her voice sounding annoyed and angry. Uh oh.

He kicked off his boots and headed that way, the bags swinging from his hook. "What's going on?"

Emma blew some hair out of her face and used the counter to help herself up off the tile floor. "What's going on, Killian, is that the fucking fridge is broken and the goddamn ice melted and formed a fucking puddle and I fell!"

He tried to shove aside that way her face was flushed, the way her chest heaved with frustrated pants. He laid the bags aside. "Are you alright? Did you hurt anything?"

"I'm fine," she muttered, and Killian breathed a sigh of relief. Slipping on water like that could have been worse. "But what in the hell are we going to do? Most of the things in there will fucking spoil before we can get it fixed. Jesus fucking Christ, I did not need this right now!" She pounded her hand on the counter angrily, green eyes flashing.

Killian covered her hand with his, his body instantly reacting to the touch. He bit his lip, trying to rein in control of his libido. "Swan, everything will be fine, you'll see."

Emma surprised him by curling her fingers around his. "You know what would really help right now?"

"What's that?"

"Kiss me?"

He was flustered only for a moment, until he saw that knowing gleam in her eyes. The bloody minx knew. She knew what her profanity laced outbursts did to him. "The ice box isn't really broken, is it?"

Emma grinned at him, unapologetic. "Nope. Now are you going to fucking kiss me or not?"

"You are a devious one, Swan," he muttered, pulling her into his arms and kissing the breath out of her. He pressed her back against the counter, back bowing as he kissed along her jaw and down the column of her throat. Her blouse was open at the top and he nipped at the exposed skin, teeth scraping. Emma moaned under him, fingers threading through his hair.

"I didn't think you were ever coming home," she breathed, rolling her jean clad hips into his.

"You didn't need the production, love. If you want me, all you have to do is say the word."

"But I like you like this," she replied, hands pulling on the lapels of his jacket, lips brushing his ear. "I like driving you so fucking crazy that you just have to have me."

"Bloody hell." His eyes fell closed, hand and hook skimming over the curves of her body as she whispered more filthy things in his ear. She swore as well as any member of his crew ever did, and he loved it. He thrust his hips into hers, letting her know without a doubt what she was doing to him. "You're playing with fire, lass."

"Don't fucking care."

Killian picked her up, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He carried her to the nearest dry surface, which happened to be their kitchen table. He was kissing her before her ass even hit the wood, pulling impatiently at the buttons of her blouse. "Naked," he muttered. "Now."

They tore at each other's clothes, a few items getting a bit stretched out in their haste. He was impressed that nothing tore. Emma slid her fingers over the leather that held his brace in place, knowing how much that drove him crazy; she was the only one who'd ever acknowledged that it was there, embracing it as just another part of him.

He was stunned when she shoved him into one of the chairs, wood scraping on the floor. She was in his lap in moments, taking him into her hand and stroking firmly. "What the...?"

"Shh, just let me." Her feet planted firmly against the rungs under the seat, Emma rose up and took him into her body, her scorching heat enveloping him, making him shudder. He would never get over how amazing she felt, snug and warm and wet. "Fuck, you feel good."

Killian rocked his hips upwards as best he could, hand and hook on her hips. "Tell me," he said, lips trailing over her collarbone. "Tell me how this feels."

Emma bit her lip as she rode him, undulating in his lap. "Christ, it's so good. Never felt like this. So full, Killian."

Killian groaned, shoving his hips a little bit harder. She was going to kill him one day, he was certain of it. "Fuck." He lowered his mouth to one of her hard rosy nipples, sucking on it greedily Emma keened and arched, her hips moving faster.

"Oh god," she whimpered, hand siding down between them. "Oh god."

"Are you gonna come for me, love?"

"Yes!" Emma cried out, her peak coming sooner than either of them expected. Her head was thrown back, golden tresses ticking his thighs as she rode it out. She was flushed and panting and gorgeous.

Killian didn't let her get comfortable; he was still rock hard inside her, needing his own release. He picked her up and sat her back on the table, slipping out of her for a moment, his cock covered in her essence. "Feet up on the table, Emma," he ordered, nudging her foot with his. "And lay back."

She scrambled to obey him, her movements still a bit sluggish from her orgasm. When she was where he wanted her, Killian stepped right up slid his weeping cock into her exposed swollen entrance. They both moaned as she stretched to accommodate him, all the way to the hilt. "Jesus," Emma breathed, her eyes locking with his.

"In a few moments, you'll be screaming my name, love." He was bigger than she'd known before and he relished it. Knowing that no one else could make her feel quite like this. He fucked her slowly, greedily building her up to another orgasm. Emma's back arched as she gasped and moaned, more curses tumbling from her lips. His hips jerked, her lust filled profanity fraying the edges of his control. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and yanked her ass off the edge of the table, giving him better leverage to just take her.

True to his word, it was his name she screamed when she tumbled over the edge again, this time taking him with her. He grunted and jerked, hips pistoning, his release washing over him in a rush. It was all he could do not to let her fall from his grip, as they panted for breath. He managed to slide her back onto the table just far enough before collapsing in his chair.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

"Yeah."

"How long?" he asked, looking over at her, watching as she struggled to sit up. Clearly, two orgasms in quick succession had taken a lot out of her.

"How long what?"

"Have you known," he clarified. Killian scrubbed his hand over his face, scratching at his chin.

"About your little kink?" Emma replied with a breathless chuckle. "Long enough. Are you complaining?"

"Love, I would never complain about a chance to be with you."

Her face softened. "There you go again."

"How's that?"

"Always saying the right thing," she replied, hopping off the table. She closed the distance and settled into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. She nuzzled his stubbled jaw, practically purring. "Love you."

"Now who's saying the right thing?" Killian teased, bringing her lips to his.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Just shut up and fucking kiss me."